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''And he encompassed air 

Compiled by 
Janice Taylor DeGraw 





Celestia Johnson Taylor 


"There are moments in fife t/tat seem too exquisite/ 
To reach fack and" 6rie/l\/ touc/i the memories 

o/ybrmer timeSy j^laces andj?eoj?fe, 
ancf to recoffect their value ancf meaning in fife 
can hrm^ a j:^ai?ifuf ache to the heart 

J^ncfyet not to thmh oj^them is to deny one s self 
a /mite and^ cfeficate sense o/joy and reafity 
which comes not often; hut when it touches the souf 
mahes one sense -j^erhaps only hriefly - 
the immense and overwhehnm^ value of fife 

and its wondeTfufpossihdities for the future. " 

Kathryn Dee Taylor Brockbank 

Letter to Celestia J. Taylor, 
February 16, 1967 




Frontspiece iii 

Illustrations and Photographs vii 

Preface and Acknowledgements ix 

Poems 1 

Life of Lynn Dixon Taylor 5 

Boyhood and Youth. 9 

Hillcrest Farm 21 

Provona Beach 25 

Wildwood- 27 

Goldbrickers 31 

Brickerhaven 35 

A History of Brickerhaven 39 

Brickerhaven Poems 45 

My Life in Provo Canyon - Janice T. DeGraw 51 

Courtship 55 

Relationships 59 

Friends and Social Life 61 

Homes 63 

House on the Hill - Celestia J. Taylor 65 

Our Home on the Hill - Lynn D. Taylor 67 

Missionary 79 

Church Service 83 

Pleasant View Ward - Lynn D. Taylor 87 

Vocations and Avocations 91 

Brigham Young University--- 95 

Dixon Taylor Russell Company 97 

A Loving Memoir - John Arthur Taylor 103 

Memories of Dad - Janice Taylor DeGraw 127 

The Father of the Bride - Lynn D. Taylor 131 

Memories of My Father - Lynn Anne Taylor Richards 137 

My Father -George Terry Taylor 141 

Memories and Tributes 145 

Obituary 150 

Resolution - Bonneville Development Co. 151 

Patriarch Blessing. 153 

References 155 





Frontispiece - Lynn Dixon Taylor iii 

Photographs of Lynn Dixon Taylor 3 

Arthur Nicholls Taylor Family 5 

Lynn as Hiawatha 9 

Fathers and Sons 14 

The Four Bishops 15 

Baptismal Building 15 

Trolley, Trains and Traffic 16 

Taft, the Tabernacle, and the Tower 17 

Fifth West and "Sandy Alley" 18 

Home and Family 19 

Hillcrest Farm 21 

Provona Beach and the Beach Boys 25 

Wildwood 29 

Gold Brickers 32 

Bricker Boys 33 

Bricker Festival 34 

Dad in the Canyon - Lynn Anne Taylor Richards 37 

The Cabin in the Meadow - Kathryn Dee Taylor Brockbank 48 

Lynn and Celestia 55 

Marriage 60 

Our Home on the Hill 77 

Missionary Minister Certificate 79 

Called to Serve 80 

Missionary Photographs 81 

New Bishop 85 

Bishop's Certificate 86 

Student Army Training Corps 91 

Certificate of Honor 92 

Bachelor of Arts 96 

Dixon Taylor Russell Company 100 

New York School of Interior Decoration 101 

Lynn and Celestia Family 103 

Passport 146 

Arthur, Lynn and Elton 148 

Dixie Taylor and Boyd Frampton 148 

Obituary 150 




In my home I have a shelf filled with family histories -- great grandfathers, grandfathers 
and grandmothers, my mother, uncles, and aunts, but not a book for my father, Lynn Dixon 

My husband, Monte said "of all your family, you should have your father's history. He 
was one of the greatest pioneers and a man with very diverse talents and interests." 

My brother, John, was busy working on another book for our Uncle Clarence Taylor, 
Lynn's younger brother; I complained that no one had written about Dad. Cousin Ken 
Kartchner, present at the time said, "I assign that project to you." I took up the challenge and 
this book is a result. 

It is a compilation of many sources. Preparing the book has been enlightening to me as I 
began to understand and know my father in ways I hadn't known before. It is my hope that my 
father's children and grandchildren, some of whom never knew my father, will gain an 
understanding of this great man and the heritage he has given to all of us. 


I thank my Husband, Monte DeGraw, for his encouragement and suggestions. 

Thanks to my sister, Lynn Anne Richards and my brothers, John Arthur Taylor and 
George Terry Taylor. Their helpful suggestions, writings, and encouragement contributed 
greatly to this brief story of our father. The example and faith of our mother, Celestia Johnson 
Taylor complements all the love and respect we have for Dad and for each other. 

The spirit voice of our sister, Kathryn Dee Taylor Brockbank is whispering always to us 
echoing the importance of our eternal family associations. 



Celestia Johnson Taylor 

/ knew a man whose smile could take the 

Chill out of the coldest winter day. 
Whose handclasp held the sort of cheer 
That no mere words could say. 
Whose daily routine kept him 
Close to nature, home and God. 
Whose hand could make a work 
Of art from a homely piece of clod, 

I knew that man. 

I knew a man whose life in all its 
Facets reflect naught but well. 
Whose friends in every walk of life 
He loved and understood. 
Whose friendly spirit touched 
The lives of all who knew his face. 
Whose handiwork his magic fingers 
Filled with beauty and with grace. 

I knew that man. 



The man of whom I speak today 
Is special in a unique sort of way. 
A man whose words aren't oft expressed 
But whose life has made many others' blessed. 

My Dad, my Father, my "Pop" to me 
Is a special sort of man to see. 
A chap who seems to know what's right 
It does not matter how bright the light. 

A man who knows but cares not to speak 
Of life, of love, of the way to seek 

Those goals of which he knows are true. 
For his life is open for all to view. 

A man whose example has steered the way 

For more than one to follow today. 
Whose honest look and warm bright smile 
Have brought his children o'er many a mile. 

For maybe they just could have been 
Along some weary path of sin. 
Instead his memory has kept them straight 
Along the path to some holier state. 

A fellow whose smile is known by all. 
Whose friendly laugh I can recall. 
Who gains respect from day to day 
Of all who come across his way. 

How blessed I feel to really know 
Just how my Father has helped me grow. 
For now I know; it's clear to me 
That I've the best "Pop" that could ever be! 

GTT. British Mission. Written 9 June 1965, to Dad on Father's Day, 



1896 was an eventful year, Utah became a state and a new baby and a new home 
enriched the lives of Arthur N. and Maria D. Taylor, parents of Lynn. In 1896, they moved into 
their new home which was a twin to Maria's mother's home, and was built on part of her lot. 
According to Maria, her mother was anxious to have her near her. The address of the new 
home was 256 North Fifth West. Fifth West was later known as "Sandy Alley" because so many 
of the red-headed Dixons and Taylors lived on that street. 

Arthur and Maria had very little money and built two rooms first, then added other 
rooms as they could pay for them.^ 

On a spring day, the 6th of May, 1898, Lynn Dixon was the first child to be born in their 
new home. They had an older child, Arthur D. born on the 4th day of October, and other 
children soon came along. Elton LeRoy on the 22nd of June 1900; Henry D. on the 22nd of 
November, 1903; Alice L. on the 18th of November, 1906; Clarence D. on the 11th of May, 
1909; Orson Kenneth on the 3rd of November, 1913; and Ruth Elaine on the 20th of March, 


Interview with John Arthur Taylor and Alice Taylor Nelson, Lynn's Sister: 

Arthur was a stern, undemonstrative man. 

JOHN; You mentioned that your father, Arthur N. Taylor was rather uncommunicative, maybe 
that's not the right word. I don't mean to put words in your mouth, I remember, I have a few 
very faint memories of him and he seemed to be a quiet man or at least not very demonstrative 
with children. 

ALICE: That's right, with anybody. 
JOHN: With anybody? 

ALICE: I never saw my father kiss my mother. There was no, that's the real old Victorian, for 
sure to an extreme, anyway, he was very quiet. And if they were invited out, he sat and let my 
mother do all the talking and boy did she talk. And so, I said something to Janet, (a woman 
from England who lived with them) and she said, "Well your dad's quiet because he takes his 
talking machine long and he doesn't have to say anything." And he didn't. Very quiet. But he 
could really, you know, being in charge of the store and all that. He could talk plenty then and 
he really laid down the law, too. I think a lot of people thought he was very stern. ^ 

For his eight children, Arthur N. Taylor never did intend to leave them a fabulous 
fortune of monetary wealth, but he did leave them with a respected name, exemplary life, and 
a philosophy which was an underlying power in his life's work. 

1. To teach and direct his children how to work. 

2. To send and support (the boys) in the mission field. 

3. To provide them with a good education. 

With these tools and experiences, he felt they should be capable of supporting 
themselves and their families, to be of value in rendering service to their community, to be in a 
position to push forward the work of the Lord, and to be exemplary churchmen. 

How well he succeeded in carrying out his philosophy can best be judged by a few of the many 
things he did for his children: 

During his whole lifetime he not only made jobs available, but actually paid out money 
to provide and maintain projects which would provide his children with work. Not only was the 
work provided, but he led out in showing them how to work with his own hands and mind. His 
motto was, "Come, let us work" and not, "You go to work. 

He set the missionary example by spending thirty-eight months in the British Mission. 
All six of his sons served missions. 

All eight of his children graduated from High School and seven of them graduated from 

Maria was a lovely, black-haired, black-eyed woman. ^ 


"I have always been inclined toward religion. It has always been easy for me to believe 
in the Word of the Lord, when spoken through His Servants. I have always enjoyed attending 
my meetings in the different organizations, in my youth and also in late life. I have a great 
satisfaction in doing my duty whenever I have been called.'"* 

"My life has been a very happy one, although any mother raising a family has a few 
strenuous and anxious moments and years, especially during sickness". 

Maria was an exemplary wife to Arthur. She supported him in all his endeavors. She 
enjoyed living on the farm and was proud of the butter she made from the cream of the cows. 
She especially enjoyed their canyon home in Wildwood and was dearly loved by all of the 

Arthur and Maria both came from pioneer stock. Their ancestors were converted to 
the Church of Jesus Christ in both England and South Africa. Much has been written about their 
lives. ^ 

^ Arthur Nicholls Taylor and Maria Louise Dixon Taylor, My Parents, Henry D. Taylor, Page 31 
^ Interview with Alice Nelson, John Arthur Taylor 
^ History of Arthur and Maria Dixon Taylor, Page 88 

My Folks the Dixons, Page 187 
^ My Folks the Dixons, Page 189 




Warts and Freckles 

Henry D. Taylor, Lynn^s Brother: 

Lynn's life would share many of the same experiences. 

"Grandmother Dixon's sons had built her a home adjoining the Arthur N. Taylor house. 
While Uncle John and Aunt Sarah Dixon were building a new home at 440 North Fifth West, 
they were living with Grandmother Dixon. Her home was just across a jointly owned lane. She 
would give the children raisins, or other snacks. 

I recall with nostalgia the memories of early Christmases. 

Just through the block from our home lived Professor Robert Sauer. He was a German convert 
and was an instructor of music at BYU and leader of the band. He composed the music for the 
beautiful number, "When it's springtime in the Rockies." In the early dark hours of Christmas 
morning, Brother Sauer would arise, stand on his front porch, and play "Silent Night, Holy Night 
and "The Holy City" on his trumpet. Over the years, the thrill of these experiences has never 
been repeated. 

Father and mother went to great lengths to 
make Christmas a happy time for us. One 
Christmas, from each of our stockings there 
was a piece of string which, if followed would 
lead to each major present. They spent 
hours making these preparations. We boys 
arose before they were supposed to and in 
the dark broke the strings. Father and 
mother were required to spend the 
remainder of the night in repairing the 

When father was connected with 
Taylor Bros. Co., Christmas Eve was a busy 
time. Shortly after dark, they would start 
making deliveries. They had a team 
composed of a wiry, nervous little black 
horse called "Nell" and an animal, half mule and half horse, called "Jack". It would require most 
of the night to make deliveries. Later, when they were at D.T.R. Co., they used several trucks 
and could be through with the deliveries at around midnight. 

On the back end of our home property were a large, two-story, red brick barn and 
stable. On the lower level or ground floor were stalls for the horses and cows. The upper story 
was for hay storage. In the spring when the hay would be pretty well used up there was an 
excellent space in which to play basketball. During a heated game, one of the boys stepped 
through an opening into the manger below and discovered himself astride a cow's neck on the 
lower level. 


In the summer months during the daytime, the cows were driven to the Excelsior 
pasture located on the lower end of Fifth West. In the morning after milking the cows, my 
brothers and I would drive them over to Sixth West. A driver would gather the cows along the 
way until finally he would have a large herd to place in the pasture. At night, the driver would 
return the herd; and they would pick up and drive our cows back home. 

A.O. Smoot was an early mayor of Provo and also the President of the Utah Stake. He 
was sent to Provo by President Brigham Young. He was the father of Senator Reed Smoot. 
Under assignment from Brigham Young, he went east and directed several immigrant parties 
and on many of his trips brought Jersey cows from the East. It became a mark of distinction to 
own some of these animals. 

We always had fine Jersey cows to supply them with rich milk. Having an abundance, 
some of the surplus was sold. 

Father and mother were kind to us, but they were also firm. If they were given an 
assignment, they were expected to fill that task. If discipline was necessary, they could expect 
discipline. They believed in the teaching, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." When mother 
found it necessary to punish them, she would require me to select and cut a willow; and then 
she would apply it with vigor where it would do the most good. I was never able to select a 
willow or twig that wouldn't sting. 

Having a family of six boys, mother, a thrifty individual, learned to cut our hair and 
became extremely adept at the practice. The neighbor boys also would come for a cut. As we 
would be seated on a stool in the back yard. Mother would tie an apron around their neck and 
apply the scissors and clippers. I was well along in years before I visited a barber shop for the 
first time. 

On the northwest corner of the intersection of Main Street and Academy Avenue was 
the Provo Commercial Bank. On the east side of the bank, just off the sidewalk, was a vehicle 
on wheels that had been enclosed and remodeled and served as a popcorn stand. It was run by 
Frank Cory. He made delicious hamburgers. The smell of the popcorn and hamburgers on a 
cold winter night was a mouth-watering experience. Usually the boys would stop there 
following dances. 

The Fourth of July was a day they would look forward to with anticipation. The day 
would start with the Loveless's and the Warners being driven around the city, first in a wagon 
and in later years in a truck, serenading with fife and drum patriotic numbers. Later in the 
morning would come a thrilling parade, followed by races, games and concessions. 

Before Provo had a pool, swimming was done in Provo River and Utah Lake. In the 
summer Provo River did not carry much water, and there were several spots where deep holes 
made excellent places for swimming. It was a "men only" activity, as no one wore bathing suits 
and the areas were so secluded by trees and shrubbery that there was utmost privacy. One of 
the favorite spots was called "Davis Hole." It was located on the river. Later, a swimming pool 
was built at North Park on Fifth North and Fourth West (now called Sowiette Park in honor of a 
friendly Indian Chief who was kind to the early settlers). That was before the days of heated 


pools. Ice-cold city water was used, and swimmers came out of tlie water rather blue in color, 
even on a hot summer day. 

So many of the Dixon's and Taylor's lived on Fifth West and had red hair that the area 
was called "Sandy Alley." 

Utah Lake was an attractive place for the boys . In the summer they would go there to 
boat ride and to swim. An excursion boat, called the Show Boat was used to provide cruises to 
Bird Island and other points on the lake. In winter, when the lake would freeze over, it would be 
an excellent place to ice-skate.^ 

Ralph B. Keeler, a close friend of Lynn's recalled boyhood experiences they shared. 

"Lynn and I must have been about ten years old when we first became aware of each 
other. It was at North Fork in Provo Canyon, later called Wildwood, just opposite the old rock 
house. The running gear upon which Lynn had perched himself belonged to Brother Kofford, 
who had been employed to change the course of the creek so that it would join the Provo at 
their present confluence. The spring run-off always flooded the pasture near the river, and 
Kofford was hired to build a road into the camp which would also serve as a retaining wall 
against high water. Lynn was there to help. I too, volunteered my service. Kofford pointed to a 
large boulder, half-submerged in creek water, and ordered us to move it on to the grade. As we 
struggled together, in ultimate triumph - now wet to the hips and shoulders, each discovered in 
the other a new friend. Lynn's red hair and my buttermilk blonde complexion were perfectly 
matched so we thought - as were the warts on our hands and the freckles on our faces. 

Lynn was reared on West Center (finally called 5th West) and I on 3rd East, so that our 
early school days were in different institutions, his at Timpanogoes, mine at B.Y. Training 
School. But it was the summers that brought us together. With the annual building of a raft to 
float down Provo River - Huck Finn style, swimming in the same waters with hurried change 
into bathing suits in the willows then growing on the banks, and, quite an intriguing, with some 
mystery surrounding, were the change quarters of the girls up-stream, always chaperoned by 
several sharp-eyed mothers. 

Then, there were the weekly treks over mountain-side to gather logs for bonfires in 
anticipation of Indian stories to come from Will Rawlins and Professor Osmond. The swing - the 
tall swing - and the thrilling leap at high-point to see how far we could jump, with self- 
appointed judge below marking the distance, side-of-the-foot wise, never with a stick, always 
with the side-of-the-foot, followed then by the inevitable challenge insisting that the judge had 

There were the hikes up Timpanogos, with John Swensen or Uncle Walt Dixon leading 
the way, long before easy trails had been constructed for flabby, soft-muscled kids. 

But, perhaps one of Lynn's most cherished experiences was with Frank Eastmon's 
donkey, Damit. Damit, because no Wildwood resident was ever permitted to swear and remain 
in good favor. However, he was allowed to use his imagination in naming donkeys, and Frank 
had displayed great talent. 


As I recall, Frank was the only person ever seen in camp riding single on Damit's back. 
When the kids rode, it was always in threes, fours, or even fives strung from withers to tail. 
Lynn usually rated a front seat because he was the smallest, I next, then up the line to Dave, 
Art, Cal, or one of the others whose turn it might be. 

Donkeys have a peculiar custom. They never cross an unusual barrier without first 
suddenly stopping to investigate. There was just such an obstacle across our camp road in the 
form of a small ditch. The younger kids, such as Lynn and I, lacking experience, were always 
"honored" when given the driver's seat. Upon being completely loaded at Dangerfield's cabin, 
Damit could usually be urged, goaded and kicked into a donkey-trot about the time she reached 
the ditch, whereupon she'd suddenly hesitate to investigate, unload the front two passengers, 
side-step the dunked cargo, leap, then gallop down the road with a lighter burden. It was not 
until a full season of experience had passed, that Lynn and I discovered why it was so easy to 
get a front seat on Damit. 

There was the annual hike up the east mountain, across the river, to post the stars and 
stripes on flag-cliff for the season. This important event was always held back until ALL camp 
residents had arrived for the summer, so that their hearts, too, could swell in patriotism upon 
seeing our country's symbol unfurled on the mountain peak. 

All of these experiences in Wildwood built into Lynn a life-time love for the mountains 
and for Provo Canyon in particular. 

As a re-capitulation of our boyhood in Wildwood - Lynn and I joined Eccles Cameron's 
work party, as we had Kofford's over 50 years ago. Eccles had been engaged to re-survey 
Brickerhaven, and we volunteered to cut brush. Imagine, two old men climbing over the 
mountain-side trying to keep ahead of a fast-moving surveying team! We were probably no 
more effective in cutting brush for Eccles than we were in moving rock for Kofford, not so much 
because of our age but, primarily because we'd take "time-out" (too often I'm afraid) to 
compare warts and match freckles, to chew grass straws and oak sticks, to philosophize and 
then chew more straws. We boasted about our children, worried about the world, re- 
mentioned our mutual respect for each other, and patted ourselves on the back for marrying 
the girls we'd married. It was a delightful time, sitting there in the shadows of life, surveying 
our histories more than our lands. 

Alice Taylor Nelson: 

John asked if Lynn got along well with his brothers and sisters. Alice responded, 

"Everyone but Elton. Those two clashed! They were very different dispositions and they used 
to argue and it got into fighting. And see, this was the joke in the family. My mother would run 
out with a broom, with a poker, or anything. They'd be out on the lawn wrestling and she could 
see that if it went on, one of them would kill the other because it got so bad. And so she'd run 
out there and separate them. She'd go out with a broom and swat them. Lynn and Elton were 
difference in their appearance and everything. Lynn was more refined looking and he cared 
more. That sort of things. Elton was just a good-natured boy and had his own liking." 


Alice also remarked about her mother and the haircuts: 

"She would take them outside, put them on the stool, and tie an apron around their 
necks. Buck and Sanky didn't have a barbershop haircut until they went to college. She always 
cut their hair and Aunt Lou couldn't even give them a dose of physic, as they called it, so she'd 
call my mother and she'd hold their noses and hold them down on the ground and pour it in. 
So, all the neighborhood was dependent on her for everything.^ 

To keep his growing family of boys busy with some worthwhile project and off the 
streets, Arthur N. Taylor kept a few cows and horses to take care of as a permanent fixture in 
the Taylor domain. 

Each morning before daybreak the boys would be awakened by their Father with the 
salutation, "Arise and Shine." Even on the coldest of winter mornings they would roll out of 
their warm beds, pull on their cold clothes, and go out into the freezing weather to chop up the 
frozen carrots, which were mixed with hay for cow feed. After the cows were milked, one of 
them had to take the cows to the pasture, while the others would separate the milk and cream 
and do other chores. This all had to be taken care of and completed before going to school. 

In the afternoon directly after school, instead of going out and playing with the other 
school kids, it was necessary to report home and prepare for the evening chores. This included 
getting the cows from the pasture, feeding and milking them, taking care of the horses, the 
chickens, and the pigs, or getting in the coal, and chopping the kindling wood. 

Whenever a holiday came along, to Arthur N. that was a full day's time to be spent 
working on one of his special projects. To his boys this was not a holiday, but a special work 
day for they were expected to be present and participate. On one Washington's Birthday, it 
was building hog pens at the Riverside Farm. On the 4th of July and the 24th of July, it meant 
being present at Provoana Beach to provide extra help in accommodating the bathers, 
picnickers, the dancers, or sightseers. On one Labor Day it was pulling and burning weeds and 
especially cockle burrs along the beach, on the lake front, or the grubbing of willows along the 
river bank. On Labor Day during the fruit season, there were peaches, pears, apples and other 
fruit to pick, pack, and ship on the "Hillcrest Farm. "On Christmas and New Year's Day after all 
the chores were finished, the day belonged to the boys. Usually their father would arrange to 
take his own boys, together with their friends, down to the lake to ice skate. He was a very 
good ice skater and enjoyed this recreation in the open air very much.^ 

John recalls a story; 

There were livestock, including horses. I have a clear memory of dad telling me that 
when he was little he needed some leather to make a sling shot or perhaps what we used to 
call a "flipper-crotch" which was a Y-shaped fork cut from a tree, combined with rubber pieces 
from an old inner-tube. The pad for holding the stone to be propelled had to be a small piece 
of leather. So dad, not finding the leather he needed, cut one from a new harness. His father 
was most unhappy about this and severe punishment followed quickly. I don't know what the 
punishment was, but having myself been severely paddled for my transgressions, I know my 


father knew the routine. Seeking confirmation I recently asked both Uncle Bud, and Aunt Alice 
if they had ever heard it. They had not, but that proves nothing as they were many years 
younger than dad.^ 

Four sons oi Arthur N. and Maria Dixon Taylor, all of whom becarae 
bishops. From left: Elton L. , Henry D. , Arthur D. (back), Lynn D. 

Old Utah Stake Administration Building 
at First North and First West in Provo 
where 1 was baptized. (Now torn down) 


A vivid boyhood memorv concerns a Street Car System, with small yellow 
cars resembling the storied ToonerviUe Trolley which appeared in 1914 
as part of the Salt Lake & Utah electric interurban service in Frovo. 
Photo shows a lone streetcar blocked by a 1915 Center Street paving 
project. Note team of horses climbing ramp with slip scraper to load 
wagons with gravel. Tavlor Brothers Store, with canonv. in background. 

Did you know that Provo once had a train wreck at 200 West and Center? 
Aiengine of the Rio Grande "Heber Creeper." going south, smacked the 
fourth passenger coach of a Salt Lake & Utah RR Interurban train Oct 
r I5l8 Fourteen persons were hurt. The George Taylor home on Sec- 
ond West is visible over the top of the derailed Interurban coach. 


United States President William Howard Taft spoke in Provo Tabernacle 
Sept. 24, 1909. He is shown standing between Sen. Reed Siaoot (center) 
and George Sutherland of U.S. Supreme Court. Others on stand included 
Utah Gov. William Spry, Jesse Knight, and BYU Pres. George H. Brimhall. 


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fr?"" luJu'-^.^ f*-^'"'"- f'^""^ ~ A"hur D.. Maria Dixon 

Taylor Mother). Ruth Elayne. Arthur S. Taylor (Father), and Lvnn X>. 
Back— Elton L. , Clarence D. . Alice Louise. Henry D.. Orson Kenneth. 

OUR TAYLOR FAMILY HOME located at 256 Sorth Fltth West In Provo 
where all the children were bom with the exception of Arthur D. 

1 18 


^ Henry D. Taylor Autobiography, Pages 30-31 

^ Funeral Remarks, Ralph B. Keeler 

^ Interview with Alice Nelson, John A. Taylor 

" Arthur N Taylor and Maria Louise Dixon Taylor, Page 108 

^ Interview with Alice Nelson, John A. Taylor 



Lynn's parents, Arthur N. and Maria D. Taylor were both hard-working and industrious. 
They taught him habits of industry and thrift. His father, Arthur, a business entrepreneur who 
engaged in numerous enterprises, had purchased a farm, not so much for successful farming, 
but, in his words to Maria, "to keep my sons from off the streets!" While the sons learned to 
work hard, none of them with perhaps the exception of Elton ever would have anything to do 
with farming. 

With a family of six sons and two daughters, Lynn's father and mother felt the keen 
necessity and importance of their learning to work. Although his father was a businessman, he 

always owned 
a farm where 
they were 
required to 
work. Three 
miles from 
Provo in 
Grand View, a 
fruit farm had 

from C. E. 
Loose. It was 
situated on 
the brow of a 

Lake View and 
Utah Lake. 
For several 

mother, Maria, and all of the family moved to the farm. Lynn's father would travel by bicycle or 
horse and buggy to his work at Taylor Bros. Co. They learned to spray the fruit trees, to irrigate, 
and to harvest. Night irrigating was a cold, disagreeable experience and helped discourage us 
from desiring to become farmers. Maria gloried in farm life. She had an adequate, beautiful 
garden and so much enjoyed picking the various kinds of vegetables and fruits when they were 
ripe. In the evening, she delighted in walking down the lane which was along the brow of the 
hill and admiring the magnificent sunsets. From these experiences and her enthusiasm most of 
them developed an appreciation for views and sunsets. 

When the interurban railroad (Orem) line was built by the Salt Lake and Utah Railroad 
Company, it passed just below our hill, and when driving our cows down to Farrer's pasture, we 

Above, peach season. lippcr right, 
Kanry D. with ?nother, M.<irla D. Tay- 
lor. Below, our horse "Sage-Cat" 
at Deer Creek, ridden by my brother 
Elton and Buck Dixon; brother Arthur 
at etde with rifle. Feach seasor: 
photo, left to right! Front. Stan- 
ley, Henry D.. Clarence D. , Alice, 
and LeRoy Taylor. Second row: Elton 
L. , Lynn D. and Leona Taylor, Uncle 
Charles 0. Dixon, snd Arthur D. Tay 
lor. Third row; Aunt Nellie Smith, 
Maria D. Taylor, Lily Owen, Aunt Kate 
Taylor, two unidentified ladies, our » 
Uncle Ashtod Taylor, and Leonn Smith. 
Back: Uncle George Snith, Sister Salt A 


would have to watch carefully and avoid the electric trains. There was a spring in Farrer's 
pasture. Lush watercress grew in abundance, and it was a favorite spot for the children to go 
on Easter. The West Union Canal ran through the pasture. It was deep enough to swim in, and 
they went there often to cool off. Where it was shallow for swimming, they would "mud 

The canal would become filled with moss and other water weeks which would impair 
the flow of the water. At regular intervals a horse-drawn dredge, with numerous spikes 
attached, would be pulled along the canal removing the obstructions. Two other sets of 
railroad tracks, in addition to the Orem Line, ran nearby. 

A favorite game as we stood above on the crest of the hill as a freight train approached, 
was to guess the number of cars the train would be pulling. 

The following are remembrances of Maria D. Taylor on the Hillcrest farm as given in her life 

"My husband and my brother Arthur bought a farm in Grandview (which we named the 
"Hillcrest Farm") from Ed Loose. Five acres were planted in grapes, not being a very good 
variety. These were taken out, and in their place eight hundred Bartlett pear trees and a large 
peach orchard were planted." 

At first the six or eight cows were kept in the big red brick barn in the rear of the home 
on Fifth West. The cows were driven each day to the pasture on Riverside Farm. As the dairy 
grew, it was necessary to find larger quarters, so the cows were moved out to the fruit farm at 
"Hillcrest." This farm was located about a mile north and thee miles west of Provo on the brow 
of the hill overlooking Utah Lake. Here a large silo was built for the purpose of storing chopped 
corn or silage fodder. Additional Holstein and Jersey cows were added to the herd, making a 
total of from fifteen to twenty cows being milked each day. 

At first the whole milk was separated and the cream churned into butter by Arthur's 
wife, Maria. A large 30 gallon barrel churn, together with a butter machine, was purchased. 
This was a great help in handling and working with such a large quantity of cream. All of the 
butter was sold locally to steady customers who declared it was the best butter that could be 
obtained in Provo. Eventually the butter business became so large it was impossible for Maria 
D. to take care of her growing family as well as this butter business, so the cream was sold in 
bulk to various wholesalers in Provo and Salt Lake City. ^ 

Henry tells of a time that Lynn was taking a load of apples to town and was 
accompanied by his friend Verdon John. After the boxes were loaded in the wagon, there was a 
small area left in a corner. Henry requested permission to ride with them. Lynn, although five 
years senior, was always very good, kind, and thoughtful. Henry was crowded into the small 
area, and off they started for town. The name of the horse pulling the wagon was "Bert," He 
was rather a nervous, high-spirited horse. As we were traveling down a slight hill, "Bert" 
became frightened at something and began to run. Lynn could not control him, and his pace 
became faster and faster. Down the dug way past Weeter's they went, gaining speed all the 
way. Henry was bounced and jostled in the small area in which he had to crouch. Finally, just 


before we reached the Provo River Bridge, Lynn, by tugging desperately on the bit, was able to 
bring "Bert" under control; and they all heaved a sigh of relief. 

John, in his interview with Alice asked her how they felt about going to work on the 
farm. She said they resented it. They had to get up early and ride their bicycles out to the farm 
and milk cows and bring the milk in and then get ready to go to school. Then after school, had 
their chores to do and then later on, when they moved into Provo from the farm, just were 
there in the summers. 

They had a couple of horses that they kept at the farm. They also had a man down 
there that was farming the land. The names of the horses were Tony and Prince.^ 


^ Arthur N Taylor and Maria Louise Dixon Taylor, Page 108 
^ Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor, Page 37 



Swimming in Utah Lake was a very popular sport before the lake became polluted. In a 
family council meeting Lynn's father suggested the possibility of developing a resort at the 
mouth of Provo River and Utah Lake. This would provide summer employment for those 
attending school. They were all in agreement. 

First, a wooden bridge was built across Provo River. Beams taken from the old Provo 

meetinghouse (tabernacle) ^ 

when it was razed in 1918-19 
were purchased and used in 
the bridge building. A dance 
pavilion was erected with a 
refreshment facility 
constructed in the north end. 
This was about one block east 
from the shore of Utah Lake. 
Bathing room facilities were 
erected near the water's 
edge. Suits and towels were 
made available. Rowboats 
were also available near the 
dance pavilion. 

Lynn's father secured 
for them a beautiful record 
player called a "Panatrope." 
Groups could drop a nickel in 
the box, and dance music was 
available at any time. On 
Saturday night a live orchestra 
was hired. 

Alice ran the 
refreshment facility serving 
hot dogs, hamburgers, soft 
drinks, ice cream, and malted 

Arthur N. Taylor (father)! 


Len to right: First row: 
Henry. Arthur D. , Kenneth, and 

Clarence handled the bathhouses. Henry served as manager and drove a Model T Ford 
converted pick-up to Provo each day picking up meat, hot dog and hamburger buns from 
Brother Prusse's Bakery, ice cream, candy, and other needed supplies, in addition to making 
deposits at the bank.^ 


^ Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor, Page 42 



Henry D. Taylor: 

One of the most memorable spots in the lives of the Taylors was Wildwood. Located in 
Provo Canyon, 13 miles northeast of Provo, it was a pleasurable spot in the summers. 

Early organizers and settlers of Wildwood were the families of E. H. Eastmond, Dr. William 
Calderwood, Arthur N. Taylor, T. N. Taylor, Alfred Osmond, William S. Rawlings, E. H. Holt, John 
C Swenson, E. D. Partridge, Caleb Tanner, John Saxey, Joseph B. Keeler, LeRoy Dixon, Moses 
Gudmundson, John E. Hayes, Jabez W. Dangerfield, Art Dixon, Arnold Dixon, John D. Dixon, and 
Clarence Hawkins. 

Mr. Noon, who was supervisor of maintenance for the railroad that ran from Provo to 
Heber, lived in the Rock House with his family and had supervision of the resort. 

My first memory of our facilities at Wildwood was a cabin consisting of a framework, 
boarded up about four feet with canvas stretched over the top. Later, the present cabin was 
built by Charles Miller, a dependable Provo carpenter. It was covered with pine slabs, and the 
initials ANT placed in the front gable. A porch extended around three sides of the structure. 
Later, this porch was enclosed and provided additional sleeping quarters. 

There were no plumbing or toilet facilities, and a wood privy was some distance from 
the cabin. Culinary water was obtained from the North Fork Creek, which was hauled in 
buckets. When dark clouds appeared and a storm seemed imminent, we would get a good 
supply of water on hand. Following a rainstorm, the water in the creek would be very muddy. 

Mother would be moved to Wildwood in the early summer with the children where she would 
remain until fall. Father would drive back and forth daily by horse and buggy. 

On the day that Mother was moved to Wildwood, two of us boys would arise early, 
leaving Provo between 3:30 and 4:00 a.m. , leading one of our fine Jersey cows. Our objective 
was to reach Olmstead at the mouth of the cool canyon by the time the sun came up. It was 
very hard on cows (and boys) to walk in the heat of the day. We would reach Wildwood before 
noon and turn the cow into the pasture. Many others would also bring their cows; and when 
we would all gather at milking time, morning and night, it was a very sociable occasion. 

Bonfires in the evening were a highlight in our lives. A night would be determined, 
usually by Brother William S. Rawlings. Young people would travel through the camp shouting, 
"Bonfire tonight!" Available men, boys and even some girls would then go on to the mountains 
and through the camp gathering wood and dead trees. 

When dusk arrived, the people in camp would assemble. Programs would be presented 
around the lighted fire. Many of us will never forget Brother Alfred Osmond's recital with 
gestures of such poems as "How the Waters Came Down at LaDore" (by Southey). stories were 
told, songs were sung, and musical numbers rendered. 


When I was ten years of age, father took me on my first hike up Mt. Timpanogos. 

This was before the annual "Timp" hikes were begun. Over the years, I hiked Timp 17 times. 

In early times, the road from Wildwood to Aspen Grove was steep, narrow, and contained 
many very large boulders. Wagons drawn by horses carried bedding and food. The road was so 
steep that it was necessary for us to help push the wagons up the steep hills. The road wound 
back and forth across the North Fork Creek. Narrow, wooden bridges had to be crossed many 
times. These crossings were given numbers. Along the way we would pass Scott's Mine. 

A major sport, and also a means of keeping clean, was swimming in Provo River. A 
diving board was erected on the left back of the river. There was a fair current, and the water 
was deep enough to provide adequate swimming. The swimming hole was located above the 
point where the North Fork Creek emptied into the river. 

Mother seemed to be the "patron saint" to the young people. She loved to paddle 
around in the shallow water. When children would ask their parents for permission to go 
swimming, they would be answered: "You may go if Aunt Rye Taylor is going to be there." They 
didn't know that Mother couldn't swim a stroke. Yet she took the young people by the dozens, 
and the parents felt that they had no worries. 

The big event of the day at Wildwood was the arrival of the train ( affectionately called 
"The Heber Creeper), which came up from Provo each evening and terminated at Heber., It 
would bring mail, passengers, and food supplies. Long before train time, members of the camp 
would assemble down near the tracks. Women and men would visit in the shade. A narrow 
wooden bridge which spanned the river would be crossed by the children, who would walk on 
the rails and climb the steep incline from the tracks. Nails would be laid on the rails and empty 
gun (bullet) shells. Later, these would be flattened by the train. As the train would approach 
and a warning whistle sounded, people would approach the tracks to greet new arrivals. It was 
an exciting event. 

A favorite pastime was a walk down the canyon one mile from Wildwood to a resort. 
Originally it was called South Fork, then "Slicks." Later, John Carter bought and developed the 
resort. Grover Purvance, his son-in-law, was associated with him. The resort was given the 
name of "Vivian Park." Purvance's little girl was named Vivian, and I assume Carter wanted the 
resort named for his granddaughter. 

A trip from Wildwood to Midway was always an enjoyable event. There were two 
resorts that were referred to as "Hot Pots." Hot water came from underground sources. One 
was run by and called "Schneitters," later owned by the Whitakers, and now owned and 
operated by Alan Madsen and named "Homestead." The other was called "Luke's " and is now 
named "The Spa." Uncle John Dixon owned a horse called "mike. His son Rulon, who was 
nicknamed "Abe," drove us to the Hot Pots one day in a small wagon. As Abe would touch Mike 
gently with the whip, he would observe: "Faith without works is dead." 

At one time we owned a medium-sized native horse that the called "Sage Cat." The 
former owner had lived in Wallsburg. One morning as we were eating breakfast at Wildwood 
we looked upon the hill across the creek, which we called "Rattle Snake Flat," and someone 
remarked: "There is a horse up on the flat, and it looks like. Sage Cat." Investigation was made 


and, sure enough, it was our horse, which had traveled all the way fronn Provo, evidently 
headed for Wallsburg. 

These are happy boyhood memories of Wildwood. There are many others There also 

was the annual hike up the east mountain, across the river, to post the Stars and Stripes on the 
flag cliff for the season. This important event was usually held back until all camp residents had 
arrived for the summer so that their hearts, too, could swell in patriotism upon seeing the 
country'[s symbol unfurled on the mountain peak/ 

N. Taylor Wildwoo. 

a; i;i, May 1938. 

On Tiap's saddle about 1913. From left, 
Arthur ij. Taylor, John D. Di.xou, Soyden 
Dangerfleld, Victor R. Taylor, Henrv D. 
Taylor, Arthur N. Taylor (father). J. 
Hunter Manson, Fred Dixon, Walter Dixon. 

Provo River at Wildwood. From 
left oil board: Lynn D. Taylor, 
Verdun John, Truman Partridge, 
Rulnn S. Dixon, Donnel Powel- 
son, Victor Ashworth. In water, 
A. N. Taylor (my father) , llenry 
D. Taylor, an J Fred W. Dixon. 

On front porch of cabin at Wildwood. From left: Front row, Alice 
(sister), Sarah Dixon (cousin), Edna Dixon (cousin). Second' row. 
Grandmother Sarah DeGrey Dixon and Grandmother Eliza Nicholls Tay- 
lor. Back row, mv brother Kenneth, mother, Maria Dixon Tavlor, and 
my baby sister Ruth. Pictured at right in Wildwood pasture: Henry 
D. Taylor, left, and lay brother Kenneth, with our Jersey cow in back. 

^ Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor, Page 45-48 



Lynn D. Taylor was a charter member of the Gold Brickers and was the first president. 
He designed the official pin for the organization. 

Henry D. Taylor: 

In the year 1917, World War I was in progress. A training program for soldiers had been 
established at BYU known as the Student Army Training Corps (SATC). Students who were old 
enough were enrolled. My brothers, Lynn and Elton, were both members, as was Ernest L. 
Wilkinson, who later became president of BYU. The Maeser Memorial Building served as 
barracks for the troops. Looking forward to the time when the war would be ended and they 
would be back in school, some of the boys decided to form a club. It was named the "Gold- 
Brickers Club." The charter members were: 

Rulon S. Dixon 

Clarence Edwards 

Reed E. Holt 

Lynn D. Taylor 

Elmer R. Baddley 

Ralph B. Keeler 

J. Aldous Markham 

A. Rex Johnson 

Ralstone Irvine 

Vernon C. Talboe 

Later years other persons joined. 

To be a member of the club, the person had to be a college student, unmarried, of good 
moral character, and maintain high standards. 

With my brother, Lynn, as a charter member, I observed with keen interest the activities 
and progress of the club. The initiation ceremonies were intriguing. In the center of the 
intersection of Academy (now University) Avenue and Main (now Center) Street was an unique 
water fountain. Those being initiated dressed in fishing outfits, compete with hip boots, and 
were required to stand in the midst of traffic (rather light in those days) and cast their rods into 
the fountain. They were then required to walk down Main Street fishing in the gutter along 
the sidewalks. 

Lynn wrote, "...around Thanksgiving time each year they would hold an enjoyable dinner 
and dance at the Hotel Roberts. 


Later, during the administration of Franklin S. Harris as president of BYU, it was 
determined that no social clubs would be allowed to function on the campus. So on the night 
of April 19, 1924, a funeral service was held for the Gold Brickers Club in the Fourth Ward 
Recreation Hall. A small casket was borrowed from the Berg Mortuary, a brick painted gold 
color was placed in it; and the members of the club, with white gloves, serving as pall-bearers, 
carried and followed the coffin in a solemn processional march. A dance then concluded the 

l} 3 W 

k4 A ^ 

Top Row-- Ciareace 0. Edwards, Raywond Taylor, J. Aldou--; ' ^ . 
ham, Rulon S. Dixon, F. Clyde Keyte, and Vernon C. roli-. , 
Middle Row-- Owen T. Romnev. n.mlel M. Keeler. West Pari 
Lynn D. Taylor, Henry D. . i . . .md A. Rex Johnaorv. 
Boccom Row- U. Lynn MllU-r. Fred L. Markham. J. Stewart Wil- 
Liams, Ralph B. Keeler, Rulon C. Van Wagenen , Glen CranJalL. 

Goldbricker Initiation (phoi 

Park. From left: Raymond Tj>j>^.i, ■ 

enen, and Henry t). Taylor (on pony), 

ht) took place at Nottl 
Romney, Rulon Van W ;.- 

evening. The printed dance program, which was etched in black and contained a picture of a 
gold brick. 

We had a character in the Club known as "Abe" Dixon... He was always a hefty lad -He's 
a conservative 250 pounds now, and was always the life of the party. He had an old model T. 
Ford— one of the first in town and he called it "inertia". It was always driven through the gate 
on the lower campus and tied up to one of the trees on the lawn, with a piece of cord string. It 
had no key and all the "Brickers" used it whenever they wished. It was quite a sight to see 


"Inertia" dodging tlirougli the trees and along the walks, around the buildings, with a load of 
guys and gals." 

"Each spring. Girls' Day was celebrated. "Aunt Alice Reynolds" the counterpart of your 
Dean of Women today, had charge of the arrangements for this day. It was customary to 
nominate several girls for queen and elect the winner of the day before the event. When the 
nominations were completed it was discovered that "Abe" Dixon's name was entered. All the 
Brickers got out and worked and "Abe" polled by far the biggest vote. "Aunt Alice" wrung her 
hands and plead for justice. The highest girl vote was finally named queen and "Abe" was 
featured as "King". 

The Annual Bricker Festival was a canyon week-end party. These parties were held at 
Wildwood and were wonderfully successful. It was here that the loving cup contest developed. 
I'm reminded of one little incident. "Abe" Dixon's fiance was on a mission and he had asked 
another girl to go to the party with him. We ganged up on him the last day while loving cup 
nominations were being made and insisted that he won, hands down. Some impassioned 


oratory supported his candidacy, wfiile "Abe" squirmed and stuttered and tried to plead 
innocent. As a matter of fact, the girl he had taken was upset because he had been so 

BRICKER FESTIVAL AT "WILDWOOD" - ABOUT 1924: Left to right: Front 
row: J. Stewart Williams, Rulon C. Van Wagenen, Stanley R. Dean, 
and Merrill J. Bunnell. Back row: Lynn D. Taylor, Celestia John- 
son, the cook, Roma Larsen, Henry D. Taylor, Frederick R. Hinck- 
ley, and Clara Greer. 

^ Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor, Page 58-59 



Ralph B. Keeler: 

"Lynn enjoyed his companions and wanted for them everything that he wanted for himself. I 
believe it was this friendliness, coupled with his boyhood days in Wildwood, which inspired him 
to conceive Brickerhaven. In this connection I recall his approaching me one day in the upper 
hall of the old education building, and suggesting the startling thought that, upon graduation 
we might be separated. He added, further, that all the boys - Vern, Bish, Abe, Lewy, Harold, Bill 
Bunk, Henry Dan, Clarence, Elmer, Fred and Buck (he named them all) also will go their 
separate ways, "therefore," he insisted, "we must do something to draw us back together." 
While I floundered in consideration, he was ready with a full answer. 

"You remember how it was in Wildwood?" I nodded in agreement. "Well, there's a nice 
acreage in Stewart's Fork which, I believe, we can buy." 

Thus, his creativity had conceived a new summer area in the mountains where all his 
friends could be near. Ultimately, he became Brickerhaven's corporate president and guiding 
hand, and remained an officer until his death. He and Cess built the first home in the area, 
pioneering the roads, the water, and the power. Here they indoctrinated their children with 
love for mountain streams, and in their cabin surrounded them with family solidarity. The 
fourth-of July was extra special for them. It became the family day. And, always, relatives and 
friends were invited to join, and partake of their hospitality and family spirit on this and other 
days throughout the summer. It has been our pleasure to be with them often."^ 

Henry D. Taylor 

"In the early 1920's an annual Spring Festival was held by the Goldbrickers of Wildwood, 
together with their partners. One enjoyable tradition was a hike to Stewart's Falls, often called 
Stewart's Cascades. The area was so beautiful that we thought it would be wonderful if we 
could one day own and construct summer homes in that area. After years of wishful thinking, 
in the late 1926, negotiations were completed with Scott P. Stewart, who represented the 
owners of the North Fork Investment Company, for the purchase of the "flat", and adjoining 
areas. So, on November 15, 1926, shortly before I returned from my mission, an option 
payment of $25 was made by Lynn D. Taylor, William J. Snow Jr., and Victor R. Taylor, as 
trustees for the Goldbrickers, to the North Fork Investment Company. An agreement was 
drawn up which provided for an additional $225 as a down payment, to be paid on January 18, 
1927; $283 on January 18, 1918, and $283.34 due and payable on July 18, 1928, for a total of 
$1,100 This purchase included approximately fifteen and one-half acres at $70 per acre. The 
unpaid balance was to draw interest at the rate of 7% and was to be paid with the semi-annual 

Being students, we didn't have much money, so we would pay an additional $1 with our 
monthly dues. This entitled us to hold one share of stock in the corporation that was called the 
"Brickerhaven Country Club." The cost of each share was $25. 


At a board meeting held on April 14, 1943, it was decided to change the name of the 
corporation from "Brickerhaven Country Club" to Brickerhaven Corporation." It was also 
decided that those who had not been Brickers would be allowed to purchase from a Bricker his 
stock in the corporation with the consent of the other members. This far-sighted decision has 
made possible the erection of many beautiful summer homes 

In November 1966 an additional .184 acres were purchased from F. Paul Stewart, a son 
of Scott P. Stewart, for the sum of $1,000, as he had acquired the property of the North Forth 
Investment Company. 

On September 10, 1971, a small area was purchased from Robert Redford, who owns 
the "Sundance Resort," for the sum of $2,376. This was to provide a site for our culinary water 
reservoir, and sufficient land to allow for the loop road on the west end of the Brickehaven 

John A. Taylor: 

I can recall very clearly, the days before there were any cabins in Brickerhaven, and I 
suppose Janice can remember too. 

The road up Provo Canyon was very narrow and twisty, and the road from Wildwood to 
Aspen Grove even more so. The road up into the Bricker Haven, area ended at Mutual Girls 
Home turn-off. From there up to Stewart's Falls was only a trail. The meadow was at that time 
called "Stewart's Flat," and there we would picnic. There were no cabins. For little kids with 
short legs it was a long hike. 

Dad had long planned to build a summer home there. He had been conditioned to love 
the canyon as a boy, when his own father had been one of the pioneers of the Wildwood 
development. When Dad was in college, he and a group of his Gold Bricker chums had the 
foresight to buy a good-sized tract of land from the Stewart Family, at about $25 an acre. As 
you know. Dad was one of the Charter members of the Gold Brickers. 

In the early '30's Dad arranged to take over a debt owed by a lumberman who bought 
home furnishings from Dixon-Taylor-Russell Co. Dad took a large amount of rough-cut lumber 
in exchange, and put it in storage for a few years in a warehouse. In this load were the 12'xl2' 
timbers that are so important in the cabin. 

Dad's chance came in 1940 or thereabouts, when Angus Wall moved into the 
abandoned Mulestein home a few hundred feet from the old Leichty home which still stands. 
Merrill Bushnell's home is built on the very spot. The Wall Family moved to Provo just before 
the outbreak of World War II, from Colonia Dublan, Chihuahua, Mexico. Angus was a rough 
carpenter with a large family. Dad was bishop of the old Pleasant View Ward, and was very 
helpful to the Walls in their getting established. As I recall, the children were Helena, Roy, 
Frank, John and a younger daughter Reva Mae, and David. 

Dad designed the cabin and hired Angus to build it, in the summer of 1941. Angus and 
his older sons camped out on the flat. Dad would come up as often as he could, nights and 
weekends during the construction. It was a great project and one of the thrills of his life. He 


loved it up there so much that we would move up in the early spring and not move back to 
Provo until school was ready to start. He would drive up and down to work every day. 

In those days where did we get our drinking water? Out of a bucket dipped into the creek! 
Where was our toilet? In a little shack on the hill above. It was so scary, for a little kid to have 
to go out of the cabin on a pitch black night and climb up the hill in the dark. ..all the while 
listening for bears, I might add! What did we do for light in the cabin? Coleman Lanterns, 
rarely candles, and coal-oil lanterns. The fireplace was our only source of heat. Of course, 
there was the kitchen stove too. 

We children had very happy times, have very happy memories of when Mom and Dad, 
and Kathryn were alive, and we were all warm and secure in front of our big fireplace. 

You have all heard me say that when Mother had her stroke on December 31, 1994, and 
we could no longer go up to her beloved cabin, it was as if a light had been turned-out. The 
cabin did not feel the same. It was not warm and comfortable, but ..cold and austere. In actual 
fact, some things had changed and much for the worse. We simply had no idea. John's 
account continues on about how the cabin was restored and cared for.^ 

Painting from Photograph by 
Lynn Anne Taylor Richards 


^ Ralph B. Keeler, Funeral 

^ Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor, Page 62 

^ Letter to Janice, John A. Taylor 


In May of 1926, three members of the Goldbrickers Club, an off campus organization, 
but comprised mainly of BYU students, were delegated to meet with Scott P. Stewart, Secretary 
& Treasurer of the North Fork Investment Company, owners of approximately 2,000 acres of 
land in the North Fork of Provo Canyon. 

These three members, Lynn D. Taylor, William J. Snow, and Victor R. Taylor, were 
charged with the responsibility of selecting the most desirable site in all North Fork on which a 
summer "haven" or retreat could be established with summer homes for the alumni and a club 
house or lodge for the unmarried active school members. 

The three members spent several days hiking to all of the choice sites on the Stewart 
property in the North Fork. Scott P. Stewart had been very kind to them by spending so much 
time in showing them the different sites and allowing them to make their selection of any 
location. After their choice of a site, they were privileged to designate its boundaries. The site 
where the Mutual Girls Home was later built was passed up in favor of the present location of 
BRICKERHAVEN. The club accepted the selection made by these three members by paying a 
$25 "earnest money" option for about 15 acres of land. This option was made on November 5, 

January 18, 1927, a contract for the purchase of 15.5 acres of land from the North Fork 
Investment Company was signed by Lynn D. Taylor, William J. Snow Jr., and Victor R. Taylor. 
The purchase price was $1,100; $225 down, four payments annually of $283.33 at 7% interest. 

To meet the annual installment payments for the purchase of this property, each Bricker 
was to pay $1.00 a month. The monthly Club dues were $5.00 and $1.00 of this was earmarked 
for land purchase. The other $4.00 was for parties, luncheons, and Club expenses. 

It was not until July 19, 1928 that the Articles of Incorporation for Brickerhaven Country 
Club, a non-profit organization, was filed with the Secretary of the State of Utah. 

By March 5, 1927, the following six members had paid in full their $25.00, which was the 
value of one share of stock in the canyon project: 

Mark K.Allen 

Paul S. Dixon 

Thomas Pyne 

William J. Snow Jr. 

Henry D. Taylor 

Lynn D. Taylor 

By September 1, 1927, two more members, Robert K. Allen and Victor R. Taylor had paid 
their $25.00. At this time a drawing for lot choice was as follows: 

1. Lynn D. Taylor 


2. Henry D. Taylor 

3. William J. Snow Jr. 

4. Mark K.Allen 

5. Paul S. Dixon 

6. Robert K. Allen 

7. Thomas Pyne 

8. Victor R. Taylor 

By February 17, 1930, the names of Harold W. Brown, Ralph B. Keeler and Eugene Allen 
were added to the list of paid-up members. 

At the July 1930 Annual Stockholder' Meeting, an assessment of $7.50 a share 
was levied against the stock of the Brickerhaven Country Club in order to "provide funds 
for incidental expenses such as stock certificates, letters, blue prints, taxes and etc.; and 
to cover final payment on the property." This assessment letter further states, "It is of 
interest to note that $950 of the purchase price has been paid and there only remains 
$180.00 to be paid. There are thirty-six paid-up stockholders. The outlook for the 
property is bright. The Y.L.M.I.A. has purchased property just below ours and they are 
beginning a road that will make our property accessible." 

By September 6, 1930, sufficient cash had been received from the assessments 
to send the North Fork Investment Company a check to pay the balance of the sales 
contract for the purchase of 15.5 acres of land near the Stewart Cascade. The North 
Fork Investment Company drew up a warranty deed to the Brickerhaven Country Club, 
transferring title to 15.5 acres of land in the North Fork of Provo Canyon. This deed was 
signed by John R. Stewart, President and Scott P. Stewart, Secretary & Treasurer. 

With the property now in the name of Brickerhaven Country Club, a definite 
assignment of lots to each paid-up member was accomplished by selection. First choice 
of lots was selected by commencing with the lowest number 1, which was Lynn D. 

Order for choice of lots was: 


Lynn D. Taylor 


Henry D. Taylor 


William J. Snow Jr. 


Mark K.Allen 


Paul S. Dixon 


Robert K. Allen 


Thomas Pyne 


Victor R. Taylor 


J. Aldous Markham 


Joseph K. Allen 

11. Robert N. Anderson 

12. Wesley Johnson 

13. Thalman Hasler 


14. William F. Edwards 

15. Dix. M. Jones 

16. LeRoy Bunnell 

17. Vern Talboe 

18. Wesley P. Lloyd 

19. Elmer Baddley 

20. Merrill Bunnell 

21. Donald P. Lloyd 

22. U. Lynn Miller 

23. Clarence D. Taylor 

24. Karl Bunnell 

25. Ralph B. Keeler 

26. Vern Worthington 

27. Loren C. Bryner 

28. Kenneth Handley 

29. Fred L. Moore 

30. Don Forbett 

31. R. Thornton Snow 

32. John Allen 

33. A. Rex Johnson 

34. David Hart 

35. Harold W. Brown 

36. Eugene Allen 

37. C. E. "Star" Nelson 

Later additions were: 

38. Harold Candland 

39. A. Sherman Christensen 

40. O. Kenneth Taylor 

41. C. R. Peterson 

42. Floyd Millett 

43. Ralph Reed Olsen 

44. Clyde Summerhays 

45. Grant A. Fisher 

In the summer of 1930, members of the Utah and Sharon Stakes and a group of 
fifteen Brickers, were able to complete a rough graded road up to the white clay 
deposits, which were about half-way to the newly acquired Mutual Girls property. 

With the advent of the "depression" and other factors, it was not until 1938, that 
an automobile road was constructed to the East line of the Brickerhaven property. 

To assure privacy at Brickerhaven, permission was obtained from Scott P. 
Steward to erect a gate, on his property, at the turnoff point where the road turned East 
and went up the hill to the Mutual Girls Lodge. 


It was during these "depression" years that money was extremely hard to raise. 
Taxes, surveying bills and other expenses accumulated and were overdue. The small 
assessments made were not immediately paid by all the members. To forestall a lawsuit 
with the surveyor for an extra amount of work he had performed and which had not 
been previously paid, the survey bill was assumed and paid by Lynn and Henry Taylor. 

In August of 1930, some of the Brickers in New York City refused to pay their 
assessments until a list of nine questions pertaining to the Corporation were answered 
to their satisfaction. They also desired representation on the Board of Directors and 
requested advance information pertaining to all matters to be taken up at the regular 
stockholders' meetings. 

The requested questions were answered in a letter from the President, Lynn D. 
Taylor, and the Secretary and Treasurer, R. T. Snow, dated September 3, 1930. This 
letter closed with the following paragraph: "We are hoping and praying that we shall 
receive by return mail not only your checks, but much more important, a rousing vote of 
confidence in your officers whom you did not elect." 

That September 3'^'^ letter was greatly appreciated and supplied wanted 
information and action, for all immediately sent their assessment checks. 

In June of 1938, a B. D. Palfreyman bulldozer was hired to extend the road from 
the YWMIA turnoff to the Brickerhaven property. It then continued following the creek 
to the West boundary line where a U-shaped dugway road was constructed to connect 
the lower area with the upper bench area. A rough roadway was outlined by the 
bulldozer as it pushed out bushes, small trees and leveled a road grade on this upper 
bench area. Most all lots now had an access road to them. 

The following year, Lynn D. Taylor commenced to build his cabin at Brickerhaven. 
For culinary water he dug into the South hillside and developed a spring which was then 
piped into his cabin. When he first moved into his cabin he did not have electricity but 
had to use kerosene lamps and candles. In the spring of 1951 the Utah Power and Light 
Company extended their power lines from the MIA Girls Home to supply power to Lynn 
D. Taylor, and a new cabin built by Sarah Dixon and Clyde Summerhays. Lynn and Clyde 
were requested to guarantee a payment of $30 per year for the next five years. 
Brickerhaven paid $521.00. 

Realizing the need for additional land at the East entrance of our property and 
also for a buffer area to the South of the property, as sales contract was made with the 
North Fork Investment Company on December 1, 1939, for the purchase of 5.62 acres of 

With the acquisition of this additional land, contracts for the sale of three more 
shares of stock were made to Floyd Millett, Kenneth Taylor and C. R. Peterson. 

Over the years, some of the old members who had moved from Utah and had 
established homes elsewhere, lost interest in the Brickerhaven project. Others had not 


kept up their assessments and others had not paid-up in full on their original stock 
purchase, dating back to the time they had left school 

To clarify this tangled "state of affairs," a letter dated November 18, 1949, 
signed by the Brickerhaven President, Lynn D. Taylor, and which had been duly 
authorized by the Board of Trustees, was sent to all active, inactive, delinquent, and 
other persons who may have acquired an interest in the corporation. 

1. It changed the name from Brickerhaven Country Club to BRICKERHAVEN 

2. It amplified the purpose and objectives of the non-profit organization. 

3. It added the office of Vice-President and defined his duties. 

4. It provided for a Board of Trustees to consist of between five and nine 
members. Their three-year terms of office to be staggered. 

5. Qualification of new membership consisted of at least a two-thirds favorable 
vote of existing members. Previously, membership was limited to members of the 
Brickers or Nugget Club. 

6. Action to be followed for termination of membership. 

7. Period of existence was changed from fifty years to ninety-nine years. 

Forty foot lots were shown on the original Brickerhaven lot plat. In July of 1937, 
the width of the lots was increased to sixty feet. At this time it was agreed that any 
unassigned lot could be selected by a member who wanted to change from his present 
location. The selection to be allowed on a member's choice of lot priority. This was 
when Henry and Lynn changed from their choice of lot on the South bench to their 
present location on the creek. 

On June 26, 1960, the following motion was accepted by the Trustees of 
Brickerhaven Corporation: "Whereas the new zoning laws of Utah County requires the 
formation of enlarged lots and the filing of a plat plan of lots with the Planning 
Commission and the Utah County Recorder; whereas in order to comply with the new 
ordinance, the size of the lots at Brickerhaven must be increased in size. Resolved that 
the Plat of new lots as shown on the annexed plat, prepared by I. Dale Despain, with the 
metes and bounds to be thereon indicated; be hereby approved and the Secretary be 
authorized to file the plat with the Planning Commission and with such other County 
Officers as required by law..." Be it further resolved that where the re-arrangement of 
lots made necessary by the zoning ordinance, and as indicated on said plat makes it 
impossible to provide for the number of lots as originally planned and results in a 
decrease in the number of lots in a given area; the existing assignment will be deemed 
to apply." 

Once again the lots were increased in size from the former ninety foot frontage 
lots and which necessitated some of the lower priority list members to relocate and 
select another lot. Where originally there were more than one hundred lots, it was now 


narrowed down to thirty lots with various widths and depths all depending on the 
anticipated location of the house. The completed plat was filed with the Utah County 
Recorder, as required. Immediately, property taxes sky-rocketed from around $22 for 
all the Brickerhaven Property to over $600 a year. 

A permanent culinary water right had been one of the foremost objectives of the 
Club since its beginning. Investigations had been made into the possibility of buying 
shares of stock in an irrigation company in the valley and exchanging for water in the 
canyon, or buying Deer Creek reservoir water, or in locating a primary water right and 
buying it. After years of searching, Jean Hoover, who had bought one of the original 
Hoover Ranches in the Deer Creek area, was converted to the proposition of selling 
Brickerhaven a small portion of his primary water rights in the Provo River, in 1961. The 
point of diversion of this water was then changed from its original source to the Bricker 
spring, which was south and west of Brickerhaven. This spring had previously been dug 
out, developed and a small cement collection box constructed which flowed into a four 
inch cast iron pipeline and which ran 1,744 feet down the Brickerhaven property and 
overflowed into the creek. From this four inch line, a two inch galvanized metal pipeline 
serviced the upper bench area and another two inch line serviced the lower area. In 
1953, the total cost of this water project amounted to $6,494.41 

With the Brickerhaven property located in the middle of the Stewart property 
and with the knowledge that there would be cattle and sheep grazing on the Stewart 
property, it was a known fact from the beginning that eventually the Brickerhaven 
property would have to be fenced on four sides to keep the livestock out. The officers, 
realizing that it would work a hardship on the stockholders to fence the whole area in 
one years and costing about $5,000, decided that each year a section of fence would be 
installed, thus spreading the cost over several years. 

In 1961, the East gate was installed. In 1963, the East chain link fence was 
installed for $481.23. In 1964, all of the West fence and a portion of the South fence 
was built for $1,425.10. Another section of the South fence and a portion of the North 
fence was constructed in 1967 for $1,907.38. $1,884.36 completed the remainder of 
the fence in 1968. The total cost of the net wire fencing project was $5,293.02. 

The perennial problem of water washing the dirt and gravel off the roads, 
coupled with the cars flipping and pushing gravel from the wheel tracks to the center of 
the road or off to the side of the road and which required continuous road work and 
repairs to keep in good shape, prompted the Corporation Officers to investigate the cost 
and feasibility of hard-surfacing the road, as a solution to their problem. In 1967, an 
allotment of $2,000 was allotted to complete the hard-surfacing up the hill to Ethelyn 
Taylor's lot on the upper bench and continuing from Clyde Summerhays' lot to EiRoy 
Nelson's lot on the lower road. 

On August 3, 1968 at the Annual Stockholders Meeting held at Brickerhaven, the 
members of the Brickerhaven Corporation accepted and adopted twenty By-laws for the 
governing of the Corporation.^ 



/ awoke this morning to textured beauty: 
Leaves of every size gently brushed my window/; 

IVIiniature leaves laced through branches; 
Varied colored leaves gently touched each other; 
Dew cooled the tender vines and fragile leaves; 
Varied shapes and colors of leaves 
Were woven— latticed netlike— for this morning's sun. 

I strolled on textured ground beside the leaping stream 

On soft colors of ancient rocks, 
Structured in multitudinous shapes of greys and crystal. 
And worn rose-brown of ancient days. 

I viewed silhouetted pines, reaching, reaching— 
Fringing the Blue sky edge. 
Great pines, unhampered, caressed the blue. 
Tender, new-born Aspen leaves seemed 
Knitted among Old pines, 
Whose roots appeared soft fleeced by slender grass in 
Satin-stitched designs. 
Satin I ike grass unfolded from mere spikes of virgin green. 
Grew in close-knit friendly clusters. 
Flowers delicately dotted the soft greens. 

I heard live surging water rush. 
Moving, racing, eternal water; 
Channeling over boulder beds; 
Polishing rough surfaces with velvet mosses; 
Leaping on and on. 
Sucking danger into hidden caves, 
Bounding over patterned surfaces; 
Teasing tender plants on precipitous edge. 

I noted great sweeping curves, hewn by the powerful hidden 
Currents of the gnashing waterfalls. 

I followed a miniature stream that edged the great gushing one— 
The tender blades of grass that laced the shallow banks 
Were clean and safe. 


/ awoke to myriad visions and unvoiced sounds this morning 
All structured from gossamer to colossal; from torrent 

Stream of surging rapids to bell-like trickle; 
A chipmunk poised on a sun-warmed stone and became 

Aware of other life. 
To a sacred world of mountain peaks and pine-edged sky. 
Only the sun and God could glimpse into this Heaven. 

Today, I entered into more than fringe beauty and saw the secrets 
Of a thousand nature dimensions— depths and breadths, and heights. 
How could the Lord know my healing needs this luscious day? 
Now as I leave, a secret warmth envelops me. 
Harsh sounds and words are cushioned by the delicate and 
The strong protective safeguard of 
My discovery— TEXTURED BEAUTY. 

NOTE: NOT FINISHED OR POLISHED. This is how I felt that memorable morning in your Canyon 
Heaven A.B.H.) Anna B. Hart 


SaJUuvdcuj/, SepiemAcA/ 16, 2006- ^^ilcAmAcuji^n^, 7:30 o/.m/. 
^~€Ioudsy like/ the/ (gilded, c^oiden^ Himaiiv o^- ^jod/ d/u^Un^/ acmss/ 

s4sj2€4vsy ioucAed wUA' w &yU4/sA^ (^<xld leof, q444iAiru^ tAe^ 
(^enlie^ d/dfi/ op cu/t/. 
zicA (mmscm op tA& QoAs/ doUed aio^ 
StcUeit^ canepyi/S/, sentlnals/ Uv tAe/ i<^2idlAj/ cl^^ 

^ key cia&ey of summer, kmnmln^Ai/ids/ (tomiv soidA. 

pM/ tAe/ comiru^ wmlew. 
^^eMle/ mule/ dem/, (^iidrnx^ p/isi/ rmj/ uUndaw^, stof2fin^, 

Standing sUentl^, iooJUn^ IMo/ tAMmd£^iui^ et^es^ 

s4fv OA/^e^idAjJwlmlm^ fmllru^ of <uu€/ at the/ (^ixmj/ of tAis/ mamMix^, 

opihi^^le^eiMi^ mom/eni/ op time/. 


Painting by Kathryn Dee Taylor Brockbank 




In Lynnwood's Celestial retreat I rest 
With nature's hand in mine. 
With love of Life I now am blessed 
'Mid moonlight, shade and shine 
No joy is half so real as this- 
No pleasure so divine; 
It is indeed Celestial bliss 
To camp beneath the pine 


The singing stream beside my bed 
The perfume breathing flowers 
The silent trees above my head 
Which hold my gaze for hours. 
The sky beyond deep blue and clear 
And free from troubled clouds 
Suggests a distant heaven there 
All free from noise and crowds 


If Heaven there be, Celest and Lynn, 
I'm sure 'twill be quite like your own. 
A sweet retreat from city's din 
A peace pervaded canyon home 
With lofty peaks all around 
With waterfalls from water sheds 
With incense rising from the ground 
And friends to share your board and beds 

A thousand thanks for your delightful hospitality. 
Yours, Eugene L Roberts 
July 3, 1947 

For Sytha B. Roberts 
Jennie Knight IVIangum 


^ A History of Brickerhaven 


Janice Taylor DeGraw 

As far back as I can remember, Provo Canyon played a major role in my life. As a child, 
many summer days were spent at Wildwood at my Grandma Taylor's cabin. (The ANT cabin) 
Named for Grandpa Arthur Nicholas Taylor. Along with my cousin Dixie, Merle Taylor, Patsy 
Anderson, Ann Whiting and others, we played on the swings in the meadow, spent our pennies 
at Offret's store and swam in the Provo River with Grandma Taylor as a chaperone. All the kids 
went swimming with Grandma (Aunt Rye) and their parents felt safe even though she couldn't 
swim a stroke. I remember being caught in the water moss and Grandma running along the 
bank very worried. I was able to extricate myself in time. I remember walking barefooted on 
the hot tar of the highway and the smell and the shimmering heat of the road. There was a 
tennis court in front of Grandma's cabin and we used to spend hours playing tennis. I 
remember evenings walking up the camp and meeting others along the way. Wildwood always 
had a very neighborly feeling. We also enjoyed campfires at night and Church on Sunday. 

Our family often stayed at a cabin there belonging to Grandma's brother, Arnold Dixon. 
I remember playing in the creek outside the door and finding pretty rocks, which I imagined 
were people and I would create stories for them. 

Grandma had back problems, which turned into cancer. I remember sleeping in her 
back bedroom with her and rubbing her back. From that bedroom we could hear the soothing 
sound of the creek and the few cars and trucks that went up the road to Aspen Grove. We 
children used to take bottle caps across the bridge of the creek to the railroad tracks there and 
wait for the train to smash them. Sometimes we put pennies there also. 

When I was about 8 or 9 Dad started building a cabin in Brickerhaven. He had been a 
charter member of the Bricker Social Unit at Brigham Young University. He and other charter 
members, with his encouragement, purchased a tract of land from Ray Stewart who owned the 
area. They formed a corporation and each paid $25 a share. Ray Stewart owned sheep, which 
he herded on the meadow below Stewart Falls. 

Dad built the first cabin there with the help of a neighbor, Angus Wall, who lived above 
us on the Provo Hill. Dad spent hours sawing and stripping pine logs to line the cabin with. Dad 
was a real pioneer (or Hermit) and he dearly loved the area. The cabin had two bedrooms (one 
a loft), a bathroom, kitchen and large living area. Dad furnished it with antique furniture from 
Dixon Taylor Russell where he was a partner in the family furniture store. The cabin was 
situated right beside the creek. After Dad died in 1967, Mother added another bedroom and 
built a deck alongside the creek. 

During the first years there was no electricity or plumbing. Mother had a coal and wood 
stove and we used paraffin lamps for light. We got our water out of a stream that ran into the 
creek. Wild mint grew along the stream and we used it for garnish. We also had an outhouse 
up on the hill above the cabin. It used to be spooky to go up there at night. The only heat we 


had was the fireplace and I remember wonderful fires in the evenings, roasting wieners and 

Dad would go down to work each Monday through Saturday and drive back at night. 
We would be in the canyon alone with Mother and no telephone. Mother was very hardy and 
would walk with us up to Stewart's Falls every morning. Our little Cocker Spaniel, Rusty, would 
go along with us, sniffing everything as he went. In the evenings by the fire and the gas lamp. 
Mother would read to us children's classics (Tom Sawyer, Robinson Crusoe, Kidnapped, the Oz 
books, the fairy tale, etc.) Often cousins or friends would stay with us. We entertained 
ourselves by playing in the creek, even swimming in it and freezing our "ninnies" off. We built 
moss gardens and grass huts and played jungle games. We hiked up to Stewart Falls and on up 
to Aspen Grove and back down the road. 

My dearest grade school friend, Mary Young, and her family had a cabin further up the 
canyon almost to Aspen Grove. It was very rustic. They got their water from a creek below 
them and used a pulley and buckets to get the water. Mary had a wonderful collection of 
Storybook dolls and I loved to play with them. Her father was a great friend of the Indians and 
he often invited some to stay at his cabin. It was a thrill to watch them practice their dances 
and songs. They would usually wear their native dress also. 

Mary's father, Karl, was a rather gruff man and I was in awe of him. I'll never forget one 
of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I was staying over and in the night I had to get 
up and use the chamber pot. I let out a big burst of gas and Karl roared with laughter. 

The sheepherders were still in the meadow after our cabin was built. I remember on 
hikes to the falls I would stop at his camp wagon. He would carve me a monkey out of peach 
stones and they were wonderful. He was a Mexican and had a beautiful little daughter a little 
younger than I. I thought she was adorable. 

We had to watch out for ticks and I had several experiences with them. I remember one 
time Mother took me to Dr. Wolf to remove a tick from my neck. Afterwards I told everyone 
that Dr. Tick removed the wolf. 

The Mutual Girls home was only a short walk down the road from us and we used to go 
there and buy candy and meet the girls staying there. One week I stayed there with girls from 
our ward in Provo. We rose early one morning and hiked to Aspen Grove and on up to the top 
of Timp. I had also made the hike with Mary and her father once before. Cousin Dixie went 
with me on the later hike. We had fun sliding down the huge glacier. I remember how awed I 
was by the mountain, its height, the stillness and beauty I saw. There was also a spectacular 
view of the valley from the top and a view of Deer Creek Dam and Heber Valley. Mr. Offret had 
a sign at Wildwood that said "Stop here, the next sight is a dam site up the road. 

Every summer Dad would take a hike with us up past Stewart's Falls and over the hills 
to Aspen Grove and back down to Stewart's Flat and home. Stewarts' built a ski tow and small 
ski hut called Timp Haven. In the winter with my friend, Doremis Sumter, we would catch the 
recreation bus and spend the day skiing at Timp Haven. I remember that once I had old 
wooden skis and I broke one and another boy had broken one of his so he gave me his good ski. 


They were not the same size, but I skied on them for many years anyway. Robert Redford 
eventually bought Stewart out and built Sundance. (But I'm getting ahead of my story. 

One time I invited a group of my Provo High School girl friends up for a sleeping party. 
During the night some of the Provo High boys sneaked up and let the air out of the car tires. 
They were staying down at South Fork and they told us later that they got a real scare as they 
were walking back. They bumped into a cow and thought it was a bear. We thought it served 
them right. 

Mother and Dad had many parties at the cabin. I always helped serve and clean up and 
then Lynn Anne and I would sit on the stairs of the loft and listen to the chatter and laughter. 
Uncle Buck (Dad's cousin) has the loudest laugh of anyone I knew. Mother and Dad's friends 
were just like family to us. We called all of them Aunt and Uncle and kids were like cousins and 
always remained close. I have never met another group of people so close to each other. 

I loved to lie in bed at night and listen to the creek. Sometimes it was so cold at night 
that I awoke chilled all over. 

There was a meadow in front of the cabin. Mother used to gather goldenrod to adorn 
the cabin with until many became allergic to it. Wild fern grew copiously and we used to make 
grass skirts out of it and line our tree house with it. Beautiful wild flowers grew everywhere - 
wild columbine along the stream, Monkshood that smelled like skunks, brilliant fireweed, night 
blooming primrose and wild roses, coneheads that we used to call nigger toes. Choke cherries, 
elder berries, wild raspberries, snapdragons and more, and of course, the ever present stinging 
nettle. The animals were wonderful, squirrels, chipmunks raccoons, many mule deer, and later, 
a family of moose. 

For awhile we had skunks that got into our cabin. Mother woke one night and heard a 
sound under the bed and she and Dad both looked and saw a little skunk. They both started to 
laugh. Another time Mother had some Relief Society sisters up for a quilting bee and a skunk 
ran right under the quilt which added much excitement to the party. Dad finally got Verl Allman 
to come up and set traps. They were boxes with bait that would close when the skunk got in. 
The skunk luckily never sprayed. They took the boxes and held them in the creek until the 
skunk drowned. 

Uncle Harold and Aunt Violet had a cabin down the meadow and they came from New 
York each summer. Harold was a real joker and we loved him, as he was so much fun. Violet 
was very spoiled, never having had children and she thought she was the queen of the hill. 
Mother spent lots of time putting on parties for her. Dad always got the cabin ready for them. 
Uncle Harold had names for all of my children - Messy Michele, Dirty Dirk, Grimy Greg, and Icky 
Nicky. Aunt Violet often fell asleep in from of the fire. Uncle Harold would call "Miss Johnson, 
Miss Johnson" and she would reply that she heard every word. 

Mother made her favorite treats for us - honey candy, taffy, divinity, homemade root 
beer, brownies, graham crackers with frosting in the middle (early day S'mores), homemade 
pineapple and strawberry ice cream and her famous baked beans and potato salad. I loved her 
fried chicken also, which along with Sunday roast was often a Sunday treat. She made yummy 


rolls and later, after Dirk came along, she made bread sticks, which became known as Dirk 
Bread, because he loved it so much. 

After we got married, Monte and I spent most summers in the cabin with Mother and 
Dad. Monte loves the canyon as much as I do. As our children came along they learned to love 
it also. 

The Fourth of July was so special; Mother always had fifty or more relatives and friends 
up for dinner after the parade in Provo. Dad died a day or so before the Forth in 1967 from a 
massive heart attack. He had been putting Violet's curtains up to prepare for their annual visit 
and a bee stung him. It bothered him and he woke up in the night with chest pains. Mother 
took him to Provo and to the hospital and he had another attack the next day and passed away. 
It was a real shock to everyone. Mother insisted on celebrating the Forth in the usual way even 
so. She said Dad would have wanted her to. It is a tradition with our family even after Mother 

We children continue to have the party at the cabin. We follow tradition and have a 
prayer and pledge the flag, which flies in front of the cabin. 



There is Lynn - All is as it should be 


"I first became aware of Lynn's 
existence when I was in the eighth 
grade at the BYU Training School. Our 
class in General Science was permitted 
to use the science laboratory in the 
education building, and every day I 
would see a "cute" red-headed boy in 
the halls or in the typewriting class 
room which was just across from the 
lab. My girl friends and I thought he 
was "something" but he never gave 
any of us passing glance. We used 
every excuse to watch for him, coming 
and going, whenever he went over to 
the boys' gym which was the upper 
floor of the training school building. 
Miss McLean, 6th grade teacher 
mistook him one day for a grade 
school student running up the stairway 
and she chastised him severely until he 
explained that he was a high school 

We had a cabin in Wildwood and I 
became aware that Lynn's family also lived up there in the summer. I got acquainted in a 
neighborly sort of way with "Aunt Rye" and with Ruth and little Ken but I seldom got a glimpse 
of Lynn in all the times we were there. 

When I got into high school I was caught up in a whirl of activities. Even through all this 
I was aware of that red-headed fellow on campus that I liked very much and whenever I saw 
him I had a special feeling about him. He was known all over the campus as "Sunbeam," and 
everybody liked him. He was in a group of Violet's friends and on one or two occasions they got 
together at our place, but I remained completely in the background, though very much aware 
of his presence. He even had a few dates with Violet herself and he began to know me as her 
sister and always spoke to me after that whenever he met me. He even asked me to dance 
with him at one dance in the Ladies Gym and this was indeed an occasion for me. 


When the Student Army Training Corps (S.A.T.C.) was organized on campus relative to 
World War I, they were stationed on the upper campus in the Maeser Memorial Building. 
During this period I was even more than ever interested in that Lynn Taylor and we - my friends 
and I - never missed a parade in Provo, Springville, Spanish Fork or wherever when we heard 
that the S.A.T.C. was to march, somehow, we managed to put ourselves in the vicinity where 
we could speak or wave to our soldiers and I sometimes received a personal nod or wave from 
Lynn himself. Then his unit was sent to the Presidio in San Francisco and on his return from 
there he was called on his mission so for three years or more he went out of my life. 

When Lynn returned from his mission I was a freshman in college and as such was more 
involved than ever. I saw Lynn on campus so I knew that he was back, but I no longer was 
emotionally or romantically interested in him. One day as I was just coming from College Hall 
where I had given a special musical reading in a student body assembly I met him at the foot of 
the stairs. He stopped me and complimented me on my performance and then, to my 
complete surprise, asked me for a date. From then on, whenever he could sandwich in a date 
with me between all my other activities, he did so; but I never gave him any advantage over 
anyone else nor did I desire to do so. 

For the next two years Lynn was one of those who persisted in asking me out, and the 
more I went with him the better I liked him, but I was still not ready to make any final 
commitments; in fact, he didn't ask me for any. Then in the spring of 1923, he graduated and 
went to work full-time at Dixon Taylor Russell Company. After working there for sometime he 
decided to go away for some experience in the business world in his field of interior decoration 
so he went to California where he accepted a job with Barker Brothers, one of the largest and 
most prestigious home furniture stores in the country. He remained there for almost a year 
and then he returned to resume his work at DTR's. 

His letters to me while he was away during this time were what actually made me 
realize that I could not let him remain permanently out of my life, and it was not long after he 
returned that we became engaged. 

As in all the major decisions in my life, regardless of how they might affect him 
personally, Lynn agreed with me that I should have the experience of teaching before settling 
down to married life. I accepted a contract to teach at Grantsville High School the following 
year. That summer I went with Violet to Berkeley, California, to summer school so Lynn and I 
were separated for another period of time. I taught through the year with Lynn making 
frequent and regular trips to Grantsville to see me or to bring me home to spend the weekend 
with my folks. (Lynn's sister, Ruth, recalls that Their mother used to worry about Lynn driving in 
the evenings to Grantsville. He tended to fall asleep easily, but nothing would keep him from 
going to see Cess). He was wonderful to me, helping me in every possible way. His patience 
with me through all that time of waiting seems to me now as I think back on it, far more than I 
should have expected from him. I spent the next summer in New York at Columbia University 
and then taught again the following year. We were married August 17, 1927. 

One wonderful thing about our relationship was that we liked each other in addition to 
our loving each other. We enjoyed doing the same things, going the same places, and 
especially being together in all our activities whether at home of elsewhere. I was always proud 


of being Lynn's wife and just seeing him gave a lift to my spirit. Whenever I wall<ed into DTR's 
and met him coming toward me or in his office, I always thought "Oh, there is Lynn," and all 
was as it should be. 

Lynn and Celestia were married in the Salt Lake City Temple on August 17, 1927. They 
had a double wedding with Harold Whaley Brown and Violet Johnson. Celestia wore a "flapper" 
style dress which fell just below the knee. It was adorned with pearls entirely over the dress. 
Unfortunately here do not seem to be any photographs of their wedding. 

Lynn's sister, Ruth Taylor Kartchner, recalls that she was a child and was not allowed to 
go to the reception. She really resented that.^ 

George T. Taylor: 

Dad and Mom were always together. Their relationship was more important than any 
other, including that of their children. Even in Dad's later years, I could find them holding hands 
or sitting together. Lynn Ann remembers seeing them on Sunday afternoon, on the narrow 
couch, lying clasped together and having a good nap. Uncle Fred, a very experienced 
obstetrician and marriage counselor said on more than one occasion that he had never seen 
two people so ideally suited to each other and who loved each other so much, (insert from 
Janice - When their oldest grandchild was born. Uncle Fred called Mother and told her to come 
to the hospital. She said let me get Lynn first.) Their marriage and family was a marvel to man 
of their friends who were very observant. This did not mean that they did not have 
disagreements. On the contrary, some of us can remember some very heated arguments 
around the table. Mother, with a strong will and with great faith would question and counsel 
Dad about an issue. Dad with an indomitable disposition, once he had made up his mind, 
would be completely undeviating. Mother of course, always gave way eventually in the 
conversation. I remember her saying that Dad was always right in his decisions. Of course, 
later Mother would come back again with a new argument and with a new outlook. They made 
a wonderful marriage. Mother always saved the biggest piece of cake, the best selection of pie, 
--always the best for Dad. Each came first in the other's eyes. Dad included Mother in 
everything. He supported her in her music and dramatic arts activities. He encouraged her in 
her educational pursuits. He valued her involvement in her Church activities. And she did the 
same for him. 

LaDell Peterson: 

There was great devotion between Lynn and Cess. Lynn was out in the yard and said, 
"Aunt Cess will scold me for this" -twinkle, smile, warm devotion. He loved being scolded by 


^ Through a Lifetime, Pages 111-115 
^ Lynn Dixon Taylor Funeral Services 


Celestia and Lynn were soul-mates. Lynn called Celestia his "Celestial Angel". Lynn's 
nick name was "Sunbeam" as he had a beautiful head of bright red hair. Celestia had black hair 
and big, brown, sparkling eyes. 

Whenever one of them was invited somewhere they would first ask if the other could go 
also. Janice remembers when her first child was born, the doctor called my mother and told 
her to come to the hospital to see her first grandchild. "I will if Lynn can go." Was her response. 

Celestia was very social. She belonged to many organizations and clubs. One was the 
"Silver Slipper Dance Group." Lynn disliked dancing, but always went with her. Lynn was quiet 
and reserved, but was really a man for all seasons. He and his brothers owned a furniture 
store. Celestia often bought drapery material from the store for making clothes for the 
children. Lynn loved sports and had seasons tickets for the games. Celestia always went with 

Because of his interior design specialty he decorated their home beautifully, always with 
Celestia in mind. 

It was very difficult for Celestia when Lynn died at age 69. She was 64 and lived without 
him for 30 years as she died at 93. She continued going to all the games after Lynn died and 
kept up the seasons tickets. Lynn had a heart attack and before he died he said to Celestia, "I 
would love to live every day of my life over". Celestia asked, "Every day?" "Every day," Lynn 

A man goodly simple and simply good! 

Lynn Dixon Taylor had an unusual, almost unique philosophy about life. 
Most everyone reflecting on life, can readily identify days laden with 
pain, sorrow, or embarrassment-- days which they would not like to experience again! 

But Lynn said time and again. 
That he would not alter a single day of his life. 

When challenged, he would repeat: 
"I'd like to relive every one, without exception. " 
-John A. Taylor- 




Janice Taylor DeGraw - 2009 

Lynn and Celestia had numerous friends. They belonged to several organizations. Lynn 
was a good friend to everyone he met. 

They belonged to a dance group - The Silver Slipper. Lynn didn't especially like to dance, 
but to humor Celestia, he was a good sport. He probably sat a lot of dances out. I'm sure 
Celestia didn't. They also belonged to a Sunday Night group and studied various Church topics 
with knowledgeable friends. Celestia belonged to a group of women called Literary League. 
They were an intellectual group and studied authors and other topics. They had periodic 
parties also which included husbands. 

Lynn was active in civic groups. He also hosted parties for the Art Department at BYU. 
Ernest Wilkinson said he was a catalyst for the faculty. Lynn and Celestia were outstanding 
hosts. In a letter Celestia wrote Janice on January 5, 1953, soon after Janice's wedding, she 

"As I look back over the wedding, Christmas and everything connected with your 
marriage, I can't think of anything I would have changed. I enjoyed every minute from the time 
you came home from Grand until you and Monte left. It all seems like a very pleasant dream to 
me also. 

We have been very busy since you left going to holiday parties, one almost every night 
during the holidays -- getting ready for our annual New Year's day celebration. Everyone said it 
was better than ever this year--twenty-eight for breakfast and the same number for supper at 

Janice remembers how she and Lynn Anne would act as waitresses for the parties and 
clean up after. Celestia made special little pastries to hold chicken - ala- king. She had ham and 
other good food for her breakfasts. The men would watch the ball games and the women 
would play cards. 

Lynn and Celestia also hosted a family Fourth of July party. She often had more than 
fifty people. Everyone gathered there after the parade in Provo. There would be ham, baked 
beans, potato salad, rolls, homemade root beer, homemade pineapple ice cream and many 
other goodies. 

Janice remembers a story that happened at Bridal Veil Falls. There used to be a tram to 
a restaurant at the top of one of the peaks. One of their social groups met there for a dinner. 
They had pie and a tube of whipped cream was passed around to top the pie. When it reached 
Lynn, He squeezed it and it went right into the face of the woman across the table from him. 
He was so embarrassed. He told Celestia she had better not ever buy one of those. 

Many parties were held at the cabin. Janice remembers sitting on the stair and listening 
to the laughter and fun. Uncle Buck Dixon had the loudest laugh. Celestia and Lynn's friends 
were so close that all their children referred to them as "Aunt and Uncle" 


Lynn and Celestia were sports lovers and had seasons tickets for all the football and 
basketball games at BYU. They had the best seats in the stadium also. Life was always full for 
that couple and for their friends.^ 

Of course, we kept in close touch with our very dear friends whom we had grown up 
with and gone to school with, and very soon after we moved to the hill we established the 
custom of inviting our close group of friends to spend New Year's Day with us. We invited them 
to breakfast, spent the day playing games, eating, resting, sometimes going down to Utah Lake 
or Provo Canyon ice skating, or sledding and skiing in the foothills around us. Then we had a big 
buffet supper in the evening. Everyone had planned so that they would stay all day, and 
seldom did anyone leave before the day was over. 

We began with eight couples - Henry and Alta, Buck and Helen Dixon, Fred and Maude 
Markham, Wesley and Lily Lloyd, Buddy and Gertrude Keeler, Rulon (Abe) and Erma Dixon, Vern 
and Alphelia Tolboe and Lynn and I. Several of this original group dropped out. ..We continued 
to have the party however and we began to include other friends until finally we had a group of 
18 couples - 36 people. We still had them come for breakfast - usually the same menu of ham, 
bacon, and eggs, chicken a la king in pie shells, orange juice, hot cocoa, hot sweet rolls, jam, 
jelly and whipped honey. All day long we ate candy, popcorn balls, nuts, apples, etc., and then 
we had a big buffet supper at night with baked beans, jello salads, potato salad, baked ham, 
fruit and nut bread and ice cream and cake. 

I gave these menus to show how much work went into these parties and how much fun 
everyone had. We maintained this custom right up until the New Year's Day before Lynn died. 
As we were getting ready for that party and Lynn could see how very much work I had and how 
tired we both were and also how expensive it really was, he said "Cess, I think we had better 
not have any more of these New Year's parties. This will be the last one." I agreed with him 
and we went on with the party. When it was over and Lynn and I were sitting, we always did 
after it was over and everyone had gone, by the fireplace talking it over, he said, "This was the 
best party we have ever had - the best one ever! We simply have to go on having our New 
Year's Party." This party, however, proved to be the last one for after he had gone, there was 
no reason for going on with it, this had always been Lynn's party. I always did it for him.^ 

^ Janice Taylor DeGraw 2009 
^ Through a Lifetime, Page 95 



Childhood home - 256 North 5 West, Provo, Utah 

The home Lynn grew up in was a twin home to one that His Grandmother, Sarah DeGrey 
Dixon had built on the north adjoining his family's home. Lynn's oldest brother Arthur lived 
there. On the back end of the home property was a large, two-story red brick barn and stable. 
On the lower level or ground floor were stalls for the horses and cows. The upper story was for 
hay storage. In the spring when the hay would be pretty well used up, Lynn and his brothers 
had excellent space in which to play basketball. During a heated game, one of the boys 
stepped through an opening into the manger below and discovered himself astride a cow's 
neck on the lower level. ^ 

Henry D. Taylor: 

One of the "fads" in earlier days was to have outdoor sleeping areas. In the rear of the 
home, Lynn's father had a sleeping porch built. It was a building approximately 12" x 12", with 
a wood floor, boarded up about 5 feet, with screen another 4 feet, and shingled roof. This 
would hold several beds. The children slept in this facility the year round. In the winter after a 
snow storm, in the morning there would be a foot of snow that had drifted through the screens 
during the night onto the beds. 

The Dixon and Taylor families were an important part of the Provo Third Ward. They 
lived in an area within five blocks of their home -16 families of them. Fifth West was called 
"Sandy Alley" because there were so many people residing there who had red hair. Uncle John 
Dixon's family had Aldous, Rulon, and Maud. In Uncle Roy Dixon's family, there were Paul and 
Maurine. Uncle Tom Taylor had red hair as well as his children. Sterling, Ethel, Alden, Marion, 
and Victor. Lynn's Father was red-haired, as were his sons, Arthur D., Lynn D., Elton L., Clarence 
D., and 0. Kenneth. Henry was the black sheep. 

CelestiaJ. Taylor: 

Lynn prepared a home for us when we were married. It was one owned by Uncle John 
T. Taylor and Aunt Edna Taylor located on First North and between Second and Third East. We 
rented it from them for $25 a month. (A reasonable rent at that time during the depression) 
and lived there for five wonderful years. It was "just around the corner" from D.T.R's and very 
conveniently located not too far from either Lynn's family or mine. Lynn had spent months, 
while I was away in Grantsville teaching school decorating this house so that it would be ready 
for us as soon as we were married. He made out of this rather non-descript place a veritable 
"dream house" which everyone oh'd and ah'd over when they visited us. Every room in the 
house was painted, papered, and furnished in the best of good taste - for as everyone knows 
Lynn was an artist in home decorating as in other things. Every room was carpeted and draped 
and furnished beautifully. I wish I had pictures of the inside of that house so that my children 
could appreciate the great pains Lynn took to make a perfect place for us to live. I remember 


every detail and even now visualize exactly how it was. The living room (15 x 18') was done in 
gold and green and rust, colors which Lynn loved and which he seemed most at home with. A 
big bow window on the south front was curtained and draped in a beautiful arrangement more 
elaborate than any window we ever had again with valance and full drapes which covered the 
entire window, and sheer under curtains which offered privacy but were transparent enough to 
see what was going on outside. 

He carpeted the floor with a choice New England hooked rug in those same colors in 
very soft, muted shades. We loved that carpet and used it later in our living room on the hill for 
several years, and then used it in the canyon, discarding it only after Lynn's death when the 
canyon home was remodeled and carpeted as it is today. Lynn picked up some interesting 
pieces of used furniture from D.T.R's. You can be sure that books and good pictures were 
necessary additions to every room in the house. Neither Lynn nor I could exist without books. 
We both had a lifetime addiction to books. 

The one and only bedroom was a large one which accommodated a complete dressing 
table and matching bench, and a large chiffonier. This room was done in gold, green and 
lavender and the one large window was "festooned" in silk embroidered damask combining all 
three colors and extending from floor to ceiling over sheer window curtains. Lynn really made 
this bedroom more "regal" than any room he ever decorated for us again. He even gave me a 
dresser set -mirror, comb and brush, jewelry case, covered vanity boxes and tray, in the same 
colors, lavender and gold. It doesn't sound like Lynn, does it, but that's the way it was and we 
loved it and enjoyed it as long as we lived there. We kept the furniture and used it in our house 
on the hill but never in quite so "elegant" a setting. 

The dining room too was the most formal dining room that we had in all our married 
life. It was done in Spanish decor with dining table and six matching chairs, large buffet and 
china closet. Lynn also found an old Spanish settee which he covered with the same material as 
the drapes, a Spanish floral print and the room was indeed handsome .It was for this room that 
Lynn gave me the complete set of "Bird of Paradise" china (twelve of everything) which we used 
and treasured through all the years. The kitchen was in blue and white with accents of red, and 
the bathroom was completely white with the only colors being those in the linoleum floor and 
in the accessories. 

I repeat that Lynn was responsible for every inch inside that home, and he spent hours 
and hours making it as much of a dream house for us as he possibly could. He never could have 
done it if I hadn't been away teaching school, for I'm sure I would have taken too much of his 
time otherwise. Also he completed it the summer before we were married while I was in New 
York so I actually didn't see it in its complete state until we moved in after our return from our 
honeymoon in the Northwest. I hope that I showed the proper appreciation for all his efforts. 
I'm afraid I did not appreciate him enough. How could I - or anyone?^ 

^ Henry D. Taylor, Pages 30-31 
^ Through a Lifetime, Pages 35-39 



Celestia J. Taylor 

We began with the large living room, a good-sized master bedroom, a kitchen, 
bathroom, and large screened porch on the west over the garage. All the children - three at the 
time - slept and played out in that screened porch, winter and summer. They all complained of 
the cold but Lynn seemed to think that was the best way to grow up, since during his own 
childhood - to hear him tell it - he got up on winter morning with icicles on the end of his nose 
from sleeping on the porch of their house on Fifth West. 

I sympathized with the kids and prevailed on Lynn to close in the sleeping porch with 
glass windows all around. We lived in it this way for a while. Then we partitioned it down the 
middle and made two bedrooms out of it -one for John and one for Janice and Lynn Anne. I 
was taking Lynn's interior decorating class at the "Y" and as a project I decorated these two 
rooms - blue and while with ruffled curtains for the girls, and brown and orange for John's room 
with built-in double-decker" beds which John insisted upon. This proved to be a satisfactory 
arrangement until Kathryn and Terry came. 

Having the garage below the ground level had always caused us a lot of trouble getting 
in and out during the winter; in fact, much of the time we couldn't even use the garage and had 
to park the car on the road. We solved the problem by filling up part of the driveway and 
planting lawn, using the other part for a patio with rock walls and floor. Lynn brought all the 
rocks from Rock Canyon by himself and did all the rock work alone. We made the garage into a 
room with a big window looking out on the patio on the west and an attractive rock fireplace 
on the south wall. We tiled linoleum on the floor, built in bookcases to completely cover the 
walls on both sides of the fireplace and also built in bookshelves and drawers on the entire east 
wall. It became a favorite room in the house, especially for John and later for Terry. 

In the meantime, we had no place to house our car so we extended the roof on the 
north of the house and made a carport which we used for several years until we could build a 
garage. We needed more bedroom space so we made our master bedroom into two bedrooms 
-one several feet larger than the other which Lynn and I used, and the other which Janice took 
over. Lynn and I often remarked that surely never any other house had gone through such a 
series of changes as this one had. It literally grew up with the family. 

We had plans, which Lynn had dreamed up, worked on, and planned through all these 
years for a new home to be built on some other hill property which we owned, but after Henry 
built his new home and we found how costly building had become we decided that we wouldn't 
mortgage our entire future by building a new house. This was not the only reason that we 
decided not to build; the children were all unanimous in wanting to remain where we were, so 
we decided to stay there and do some remodeling to bring the house into more nearly what we 
needed to fit our needs and desires. 

Lynn drew up plans for extensive remodeling and we succeeded in getting La Dell 
Peterson, our neighbor and the best builder anywhere around, to do the building for us. 


We added an entrance hall with outside entrance on the south end of the living room; 
opened up the entire west front of the living room with full length windows; enlarged the 
window on the north, paneled the entry hall and the entire east wall of the living room with 
beautiful walnut paneling, lengthened the kitchen by six feet and completely replaced all 
cabinets and appliances; took out the partition which divided the bedroom and made it into an 
all-purpose dining room and family room, building in shelving, bookcases, television space, desk 
and closets paneled in maple. Lynn purchased an entire maple dining room set - table and 
chairs, hutch, buffet - also a Simmons hide-a-bed upholstered in orange naugahyde and a large 
lounging chair in green naugahyde. 

We took out the partitions in the original sleeping porch area and made one larger 
bedroom for Lynn and me with adjoining dressing room with all bathroom fixtures and 
appliances including a large mirrored wall. We made the carport into another bedroom and 
built a new garage north of that, completing the house. 

It was in this house on the hill that the family lived and grew up. "Pussy Willow Bend" it 
was sometimes affectionately called because the pussy willows that were planted over the old 
septic tank and which for years dominated the growth on the front of the hill. With the 
remodeling of the house and the acquisition of a modern sewage system the old septic tank 
was removed and the source of water for the pussy willows went with it causing the willows to 
die out. Through the year as the children, both Henry and Alta's and our, roamed the hills in 
complete freedom of possession and loved "Taylor Hill" for all the wealth of living outdoors and 
in that it afforded them. 

It was a common occurrence to scare up a bevy of quail or pheasants out of the oak and 
squawberry bushes which grew all over the hill and often we could not count the number of 
pheasants and/or quail which frequented the slopes to the south of us where Allen's house 
stood. The sight of these wild birds from our kitchen window gave me a thrill of delight 
whenever I saw them, which was frequently. 

The children often walked to and from the Page School on Canyon Road for a while and 
then to the BYU Training School. Through the winter months they rode down with Lynn and 
Henry and were picked up after school either at Grandma Johnson's or Aunt Wyla's or 
somewhere along the way. Sometimes they walked down to D.T.R.'s after school and waited 
for a ride home with their dads. Sometimes Alta or I or both would pick them up on our return 
from town, but as the children grew older the habit of walking was abandoned and car 
commuting became the way of life for all of us. 

For many years it was necessary to carry our drinking water from town and in other 
ways the living on the hill was far from easy, but I'm sure that there isn't one of us, in either of 
the two families who would exchange the life there for any that we might have lived elsewhere. 
I have heard our children say at different times, "What can we give our own children that can 
equal what we had on the hill and in the canyon?"^ 

^ Through a Lifetime, Pages 37-41 



By Lynn Dixon Taylor 

Many times during the past 30 years I have been asl<ed the question: "Why did you pick 
that particular spot on which to build your home?" 

For many years this question was tinged with incredulity, but now I detect a hint of 
envious curiosity. Never in all these years has there been any change in the answer, "Because 
we love it here." 

As I look in retrospect, I am aware of tremendous physical changes in the area in which 
we chose to live. 

As a boy, I recall hiking up Rock Canyon, a long ways from "Sandy Alley," home of the 
Dixons and Taylors. I remember trudging over "Temple Hill" to a winding wagon road, little 
more than a trail which is now known as "Martin Lane". 

This, at that time was the only passable road for a vehicle, to Rock Canyon. At the foot 
of the hill near the culvert currently leading up Oak Lane, there was a slaughter house. Remains 
of the old rock and concrete walls and floors are still visible. A pipeline up the hill ended in an 
open concrete reservoir which was about lO'xIO' in size. 

I recall stopping at the slaughter house and watching with curious nausea, the killing of 
a cow and several pigs. At this time the slaughter house was owned and operated by the later 
defunct Provo Meat and Packing Co., whose market was located just South of the State Bank 
on University Avenue. 

Perhaps the most vivid of my trips to Rock Canyon (one which stamped itself indelibly 
on my mind, and one which was pleasurably recalled many times), was one of those 
incomparable sunny days in June when we climbed the foothills to the old Muhlestein House on 
the upper bench, stopping for a drink of cold canyon water and a rest. 

At this time a clay pipeline extended from the springs in Rock Canyon, along the hill side, 
and stopped at the Muhlestein Home. Parts of this old waterline are still in evidence. 

To the West the entire valley with its green farms, clusters of houses and trees, framing 
the sparkling expanse of Utah Lake, was breathtaking. To the South, Mount Nebo; to the 
North, majestic Timpanogos; and practically overhead, the towering crags of Squaw Peak, 
seemed to create a picture I had never before seen. 

Here was an old fashioned garden in full bloom. The lazy droning of bees in the flowers 
and the pungent perfume from scores of native lilacs, with the comfortable warmth of June 
sunshine, brought to my mind a glimpse of Paradise that I have never forgotten. 

During the early period of Provo's history, the Fort was located in what became known 
as the "Fort Fields". Here was level rich black loam with no rocks, plenty of water, and close 
proximity to the Fort for protection from the roving bands of Indians. 


Two families from Switzerland, the Muhlesteins and the Liechtys had other ideas. These 
families were industrious, religious, and very ingenious. 

Instead of acquiring fertile acres in the Fort Fields area, they looked to the mountains on 
the East. They settled on one of the benches left by prehistoric Lake Bonneville. Here was a 
lack of fertility in the soil. Rocks, clay and quicksand was the soil with hard-pan close to the 
surface in many places. No available water was apparent. 

Settling on this terrain called for hard work and determination to scratch out a living. As 
a result, these families became practically self-supporting. They even built an almost 
impossible road up Rock Canyon to Dutchman's Flat (now the Camp Ground), where certain 
crops were planted and produced. 

I recall seeing parts of an old abandoned hay rake in this area. 

An Uncle of mine told me he remembered, as a boy, seeing Nicholas Muhlestein who 
wore a gold earring in one ear, driving a yoke of oxen, on a Provo Street, drawing a bob-sled 
loaded with Maple and Oak longs, to make delivery of someone's firewood. A few of the big 
Oak trees are still growing on the hill, and are responsible for the name of "Oak Hills". 

These self-supporting people made their own shoes from self-produced leather. They 
sheared, carded and spun their wool to make their own clothes. Straw was woven to make 
hats. I remember Ephraim Liechty showing me an old granary were spinning wheels, a straw 
hat weaver, shoe-maker's lasts and a great deal of other equipment was stored. 

Too much praise cannot be given these families for their frugality, resourcefulness, 
honesty, and integrity. 

In 1932, my brother Henry D. and I drove up toward Rock Canyon and after parking at 
the foot of the bench, climbed up the hill and sat down to rest, about where my house now is. 
It was another Spring day and the hillside was covered with Sego Lilies, and sort of a blue pea- 
type wild flower. 

Gazing at the lake and the valley we began to talk about a problem which concerned us 
both. We had married recently and were living in rented homes. To live and raise families in 
home of our own was a situation we both were anxious to achieve. However we were facing 
the fact that the worst part of the depression made it the poorest time possible to think of 

As we reclined on the sunny hillside, I made the remark: "How would you like to live up 
here?" It sounded like wishful thinking. 

Henry, however, seemed to think it was not a silly question, and we began to discuss the 
possibility of getting a couple of lots and some day in the far distant future build on them. At 
this time, the only houses were Muhlestein's, Liechty's, the old Bean home and a few more 
nearer the heart of the present Upper Campus BYU structures. 

We had noticed a man over near the North edge of the bench, planting some peach 
trees. We decided to ask him about the ground, and introduced ourselves. After awhile we 


asked if he would consider selling us a couple of lots, on which we could build. He thought we 
were crazy and it took him quite awhile to get the idea. 

He said he did not wish to sell any of his ground as he needed all he had for farming. 
We pointed to the rocky ridge running from where we had been sitting, North to the edge of 
the bench overlooking the Rock Canyon wash, which was not under cultivation. He said it was 
too high and rocky to farm and there was a huge pile of rocks at the South end where they had 
been dumping those gathered up from the fields for many years. 

However, if we were crazy enough to want to buy it he would let us have it. We made a 
deal with Ephraim Liechty on the spot, for approximately three acres along the edge of the hill. 
(Note from John A. Taylor - Henry D. Taylor recalls that each of these acre lots was priced at 
$225 each, and were paid off at the rate of $5.00 per month.) 

It was heartening when we brought Celestia and Alta up to see the view and the lots, to 
find they both were thrilled with the outlook. We made a number of visits up in the evening to 
look at the glorious sunsets and each visit increased our desires to move up there. 

It became a habit to drive up on the hill each evening and enjoy these beautiful sights. 
On one occasion Ephraim Leichty, who frequently came out to chat with us, looked at the 
magnificent scene and remarked: "I've lived up here all my life and never noticed these sunsets 
before. They are kind of pretty, aren't they?" 

We faced a problem that many times seemed insurmountable. It was the worst part of 
the depression, we had no cash and it was impossible to get a loan on houses located in such an 
unheard of place. 

Henry had worked in the Dixon Real Estate Co. and was acquainted with certain people 
who put money out to loan. 

I remember visiting some of them with poor success. One man said, "I've already got all 
the houses I want!" (assuming that if he made a loan on our homes he would soon have to 
foreclose on them). 

Another man said he had every confidence in us and that if we would pick lots in Provo 
he would gladly let us have the necessary money. 

It was a very discouraging period but failed to dampen our enthusiasm for the idea of 
getting up on the hill. 

Father, who was always starting projects, had purchased the area at the mouth of the 
Provo River on the North side, and with some others, dyked certain areas to protect the ground 
from the flood waters of Provo River during the Spring run-off. The soil is very fertile and the 
proposition looked excellent until one Spring the dyke was breached and a small fortune went 
with it. 

The next project was the Provonna Resort Co. A number of bath houses, a store and a 
dance pavilion were built. A great deal of experience, but little profit was the result. 


Desperately struggling with our problem of building on the hill, we suddenly came up 
with the idea of using lumber from the now deserted Provonna Beach structures as part of the 
building materials we needed. 

The dance pavilion had a beautiful maple floor. The bath houses were covered with 
lumber which would make exterior sheathing, together with dimension timbers. 

After several years of part time employment in the architectural office of Joseph Nelson, 
I was able to draw up plans for our two houses, so that we knew exactly what materials we 
needed for construction. 

Father, meanwhile, had become interested in starting the Dixon Taylor Russell Co.. and 
we had become financially interested in the business. During the depression the business had 
its troubles as did most others. Being an installment business, a large amount of its assets were 
tied-up in customer accounts. People with good credit were out of work and could not make 
their monthly payments. 

The Company set up for each of the owners and employees what became known as 
"Produce Accounts". A certain percentage of one's wages went each month into this account. 
It was a period of trade and barter. Farmers traded hay, butter, milk, eggs, etc. to employees, 
and accounts were debited and credited accordingly. 

We began to see a glimmer of hope for our house projects. Why not find men whose 
various services we needed, and give them credit on their accounts for these services? 

We lined up a good carpenter, and helpers, men and teams for excavating the road 
building, sand and gravel suppliers, laborers, roofers, electricians, and many other 

craftsmen. With such assistance, for example, the beautiful maple floor of the Provanna dance 
pavilion, including the floor joists underneath, were sawed into sections which would rest on 
our basement walls in the exact size needed. These sections were loaded and moved by a 
house mover who had an overdue account. 

We will not forget how Parley Larsen went to bat for us on a finance plan enabling us to 
pay for the plumbing and heating. We were turned down on our application to use the 
manufacturer's finance plan, but "P.L." swore we were good risks and refused to take "no" for 
an answer. I know the manager in Salt Lake City thought they were making the wildest kind of a 
gamble, but Parley vouched for us all the way. 

Before we could think of starting construction, there were certain basic things that had 
to be accomplished. The first was roads. Our lots stood in a field with no access. Our best 
approach appeared to be the idea of starting near the slaughter house site, cross the creek and 
make a dugway following the present Oak Lane, then to circle my lot and run North to Henry's. 

We were able to get some pieces of used bridge conduit to put in the creek, then fill 
over the top with dirt from further up the road until we had a passable roadway. We had made 
a deal with the Giles Family for merchandise at the store, to pay for covering the entire road 
with gravel. 


The whole cost of this road expense was borne by us. In the winter we had no help 
from the county but had to park at the bottom of the hill or churn up the hill through the snow 
with the aid of tire chains. Frequently Ephraim Liecthy would appear with his horse-drawn 
snow-plow to help clear our road as well as his own. 

The greatest problem of all was the water situation. This problem held back the 
development of the area for many years. 

The pipeline serving the Liechty and Muhlestein homes had been allowed to 
disintegrate after the Rock Canyon Water Co. had developed a source of water which pretty 
well dried up the old springs used by the Muhlesteins and others. 

When we moved up on the hill, the families there were using water from the irrigation 
ditch, diverted from the concrete flume in Rock Canyon. 

The water was run through a gravel bed for settling and then into a concrete reservoir, 
which had a hand-pump on the top. 

After a great deal of thought we decided that pending the development of the old 
springs, drilling a wall, or getting a connection with Provo City's system which was reservoired 
at the foot of the bench, we would use the same system as the Liechty's. 

We bought several shares of water in the Rock Canyon Water Co;., and received delivery 
of the stream approximately once a week. 

Our water system involved building a concrete, watertight reservoir under the living 
room of Henry's house. A pipeline was run from there to my house. A pressure pump was 
connected to the system which proved to be annoying. It frequently leaked and it was noisy, 
going on at any time of the night or day. At intervals the reservoir had to be drained and 
scrubbed. Samples of the water were sent to the State Board of Health frequently, and when 
showing pollution, we brought our culinary water up from town each day. 

An incident typical of our water dilemma occurred a few years later when Karl and Elma 
Young rented Henry's house for a year, while he, with his family, was in New York where he 
worked on his Master's Degree. 

It was a bitterly cold winter with one of the heaviest snows in our experience. One 
January day we discovered the reservoir was empty. This calamity had to be resolved quickly 
because there were hot water jackets in each furnace and because of the bitterly cold weather 
it was necessary to keep the furnaces going continually. 

Karl and I took our shovels, after dressing as warmly as we could, and struggled p to the 
"Devil's Kitchen" where the water could be diverted into our ditch. 

We fixed the dam and coaxed the water by shoveling the snow and debris out of the 
ditch ahead of the water. Sever times it clogged and froze into ice and we had to check back on 
it frequently. 

We struggled all day and finally by dusk had the water nearly to Henry's house. 
However the freezing snow and ice clogged the ditch and we were forced to give up. 


after a restless sleep, worrying about the pipes freezing and bursting , morning came and we 
slogged up the ditch and started all over. Some moderation in the weather began and we 
finally were able to get a steady trickle of water into the reservoir. 

We had missed two days from school but had added another experience we would not 
soon forget. Had Karl not sprung from "Pioneer Stock", and had he not the fortitude and 
determination to assist in overcoming our plight, it might have been a sad episode. 

Incidentally, it brings to mind another occasion connected with our struggle to keep the 
reservoir full. 

Upon returning home from a Bishop's meeting, late one evening, Celestia informed me 
that we had no water. According to the water turn schedule our turn began at 6:00 AM the 
following morning. However, it should have read 7:00 PM that evening. 

As I thought the matter over I felt that due to the lateness of the hour and the fact that I 
would only need the water about 30 minutes, I decided to "borrow" someone else's water. 

Not stopping for a lantern, I grabbed a shovel and climbed the trail to the point in Rock Canyon 
where a head gate combination diverted the water either west in our ditch or south to the 

Feeling my way in the pitch black darkness, I found the headgates and discovered a big 
stream of water going south. After tugging with the gate which was tightly jammed, I finally got 
it out and turned the water down our ditch. 

All of a sudden I was struck with a brilliant glare of light and an angry voice cried: 
"Stealing my water, are you?" I couldn't help thinking of how many quarrels and deaths had 
resulted from stealing water, and I was mighty scared. 

Then the light was turned at an angle and I discovered my friend Heber Litchty, who did 
not know until then, who had been splashing around in the ditch, stealing his water. 

Of course, when I explained my troubles to Heber he was sympathetic and helped me 
turn the water, and said to keep it as long as I needed it. 

The problem of communications was slowly solved. No mail delivery was available and 
all mail was sent to the store. A satisfactory arrangement was made with the UPL to service us 
with electricity, but our problem of telephones was not so simple. 

The ruling on telephones for a situation like our's, was that a minimum of three phones 
was necessary. We agreed to pay for three phones, but red tape said no. There must be three 

After much deliberation, we solved the problem by moving an old sleeping porch from 
Father's home, and placing it equidistant between our two houses. A phone was installed in it 
along with ours, and every time a phone on our nine-party system rang, you could hear it in the 
old sleeping porch. 

The soil on our hill was such that after a rain you could "sink a blanket" on it. 
Romantically inclined couples began parking along our roadway, admiring the moonlight on the 


lake, and in rainy weather becoming mired in the mud. After being awal<ened many nights with 
pleas to help extricate cars, we finally put a shovel where we could tell them to help themselves 
and dig their own way out. 

One of our biggest problems was that of mud every time it rained. I spent many hours 
of backbreaking toil gathering and placing large boulders, with the flat side up, around the 
house, serving as walks and a flagged area. Lawns were planted and gravel was spread to help 
the situation, 

A near tragedy occurred in connection with gathering the rocks. One July 24th morning 
at daybreak, John, my oldest son, who was about 10 years old, went with me to scout for 
additional rocks. I had just purchased a beautiful new Dodge Sedan of which we were very 

John and I rode up Rock Canyon to a site just below the weir. We were stopped by a 
deep wash about ten feet deep and 20 feet across. In order to turn around safely I got out of 
the car to check my position. I told John to stay in the car, but fortunately he climbed out, 
dogging my heels. As I looked up the canyon, John grabbed my leg and yelled. I turned just in 
time to see the rear of that beautiful new car, rise, rise, as the front plunged down to the 
bottom of the wash, then turn and come to rest on its side. 

I can still feel that sick sensation in my stomach as I scrambled down and removed the 
key from the ignition. 

We hurried home and got Henry up to see what our insurance status was. Fortunately 
we were covered by a reliable company and the car was repaired in first class condition. 

The Rock Canyon water shed had been scalped year after year by so many herds of 
sheep that every Spring a roaring flood came down, sometimes going all the way to the 
highway. The ground from our bench to Indian Hills would frequently be a raging torrent, 
sometimes on the North side, sometimes over against our bench. 

I recall standing there with Ephraim Liechty watching the flood roll boulders the size of 
pianos down its course. 

Naturally, people living in the area were much concerned. One evening, when we 
returned home in a rainstorm we were surprised to find Darwish Kader, his wife and little girl, 
sitting in our kitchen. The Kader's were Syrians and it was hard to understand their speaking. 
Mrs. Kader was tattooed on the forehead and around her mouth and could speak no English. 

when we entered the house, Darwish said in his high-pitched voice: "Big storm, we come stay 
with you." Fortunately the storm was soon over and they were able to return to their home. 

We became quite well acquainted with both Darwish and his Uncle "Mose". They 
frequently stopped us as we drove past and insisted on our accepting fruit, until it became 
rather embarrassing to us. 

Returning home in somewhat of a hurry one day, I approached the large culvert where 
the road crosses a canal. The culvert is rather high and conceals the road for some distance 
ahead. Skimming over the culvert I saw a flock of chickens directly in my path, setting my 


brakes I did my best to stop but ploughed thru the chickens. Stopping the car I jumped out and 
ran back to try and pay for the damage. 

Suddenly Mrs. Kadar came running out of her house, brandishing a huge knife and screeching at 
the top of her voice. I thought, "Well, this is it." and I started to tell her I would pay the 

She kept coming and grabbed a big Plymouth Rock rooster, who was flopping around 
with a broken leg, and whacked off its head, grabbed a newspaper from under her arm, rolled 
the chicken in it and handed it to me, saying, "You take him home and eat him!" 

One of our problems was transportation. Each family had a car but there was the 
problem of getting to work, getting the children to school, and having a car available for the 
girls' use for social affairs, etc. Each morning we loaded one car with children and dropped 
them at school on our way to work. There were no school busses and inasmuch as we lived in 
the County we were not allowed to send them to the city schools. The BYU Training School had 
a full complement of Taylor Kids. 

In the evening on the way home our pick-ups started with the store (DTR), with stops at 
the library. Training School, and home of friends, not to mention stops for culinary water, gas, 
and our daily supply of milk or groceries. Today, there are four school buses that pass our 

In the meantime the old Muhlestein house was abandoned and became a "haunted 
house" for our children, especially at Halloween time. All members of the Muhlestein Family 
had left for other areas, and the old homestead and its 160 acres of barren ground, with deep 
ravines, bare hillsides, and profusion of scrub oaks began to return to its original state. 

Arrangements were made to pasture two of Father's saddle horses on the property and 
we all enjoyed riding them. 

Meanwhile, other people began to drive up and enjoy the view. We watched them with 
trepidation because we had begun to dream about a subdivision at some future date which 
would cover this area with fine homes. We felt it had sound possibilities and the longer we 
considered it, the more sure we became.. 

However, there were two stumbling blocks in our way that seemed insurmountable. 
The old Muhlestein estate was now owned by thirteen heirs, and to set a price and to get a 
100% agreement from so many individuals seemed an impossibility. The other obstacle was a 
familiar one to us-we had very little capital we could raise to make such a purchase. 

The more we thought about it the more certain we were of its possibilities. We began 
to mention it to some of our family and friends. Little interest was shown by some, but certain 
ones, particularly J. Hamilton Calder, saw the possibilities and became unfailing participants. 

Henry began to work with the Muhlestein Family and after untold hours, finally reached 
an agreement for the sale, satisfactory to each member of the family. Only because of their 
implicit confidence in Henry's integrity, was he able to handle this transaction. Without Henry's 
far-sightedness and loyal support, we would never have achieved success on the hill. 


In order to raise the money, many people were visited and a lot of salesmanship 
occurred before a small group were included in the Bonneville Development Company which 
was the Corporation owning and responsible for its development. 

Before any lots could be sold, many things had to be done. A complete survey of the 
property, including topographical data, location of lots and roads, and a sales program had to 
be made. 

The biggest problem of all, however, was our old bugaboo--an adequate water supply. 
The deed to the property gave us the major interest in the old springs developed by a tunnel 
part way up Rock Canyon. This had now caved in, and the Rock Canyon Water Co. had done 
considerable development work in that area. Reclaiming this tunnel and springs appeared to 
be a wonderful idea. We could develop- our own water supply and be independent of Provo 

After investigation we discovered that such construction would undoubtedly lessen the 
flow of the Rock Canyon Water Co., and inasmuch as they had been using this water longer 
than seven years, we would get into a costly legal battle with questionable success. 

We examined sites where drilling had brought good flows of water, and engaged Dr. 
George Hansen to advise us. It is a known fact among geologists that the strata of rocks in Rock 
Canyon are slanted to drain the water below this, finally coming up near the surface down in 
the valley. There is a great deal of water behind this dyke, some of it spilling off to Bridal Veil 

A location for drilling was selected in the mouth of Rock Canyon, and a contract was 
signed with a driller. This hole finally turned out to be a "duster", and another location was 
selected with a similar lack of success. 

Fred L. Markham (always generous with his architectural services, and a pillar of support 
in the new corporation) designed a large reservoir, enclosed completely with a man-hole in the 
top, in the mouth of the canyon, near the weir where the concrete conduit spilled into the 
diversion box. 

Later, taking turns at filling the reservoir and scrubbing its walls became something of a 
social occasion. 

About this time, Clarence D. Taylor, Ham Calder, Wes Knudsen, and L. 0. Turner had 
built their homes, and we began to feel like a community. 

Our water system left much to be desired. We had always felt like we should be part of 
Provo City and that our water system should be connected with the city lines. A petition, 
meanwhile, to annex our area into Provo City had been granted and we were paying City Taxes 
which were considerably higher than those in the County. 

We were constantly working with the Mayor and Commissioners to cooperate with us 
on a water system. We received all sorts of objections, especially a constant battle with the 
City Engineer. We were told to move down and fill up some of the vacant lots in Provo; that we 
were crazy to build on such a bare hilly country, and that the City could not afford to extend its 
utilities to such a small community. We argued that that it was so desirable a place to live, that 


we would soon have plenty of homes to justify it, and that such a desirable taxing unit would be 
created, it would be a profitable source of income to the City. 

In one meeting with the Commissioners, one of them said: "Why did you join the City- 
it's because you thought you would get City Water!" We agreed. He said that if we thought 
they were going to extend the lines to our property and make us rich we had another guess 

Time after time we would have the majority converted to our proposition, only to have 
them defeated at the polls and a new Commission be installed in office. In almost every case, 
they had the same opinion of our foolhardy venture. They constantly relied on the City 
Engineer (who unfortunately had a permanent position), and our answer would b e the same. 

Finally with the advent of a City Manager the idea did not seem so far-fetched, and 
orders were given to the Engineer's Office to outline some plans which would deliver water to 
the higher elevations. 

The result was a concrete tank built up on the hillside with an 8" pipeline down to the 
main city reservoir, where a pump was installed. We were forced to advance the cost of these 
with a connection charge on each lot which would eventually come back to us in payment for 
the original amount we had advanced. 

A considerable amount of money had to be raised, in addition to the water system 
expense. Sewer lines, roads, the cost of topographical maps and plat plans which had to be 
made and submitted to the Engineer's Office before approval to sell lots was obtained. 

Deed restrictions covering the design, construction, and materials going into each home 
were strictly enforced, as well as landscaping restrictions. 

Lots in many cases sold themselves, and lovely new homes began to arise. Additional 
acreage had to be subdivided. 

By the Fall of 1965 when this was written, 83 individual homes had been built with 
several other lots sold and houses in the planning stages. Somewhat over half of the original 
acreage has now been sold as building lots, with plans to develop the balance on a par with 
those now finished.^ 

^ The foregoing article-- written sometime between July and September, 1965~was found in the form of rough 
notes among my Father's papers, shortly after his death, July 2, 1967. John A. Taylor, July 25, 1967 


East Side 

East Front 



Lynn was called as a missionary to the Northwestern States 



May ?A, 1920 

Elder Lynn D. Taylor, 

Provo, Utah. 

Dear Brother: 

You have been reconniGnded as worthy to fill a 

mission, and it gives -us pleasure to call you to labor in 
the Nor thwestc iTi States. 

9, 1920. You will be expected to present yourself at the 
Church Office 4? East South Temple Street., at 9 a^m., 
the day before your departure to make arrangements for 
your transp6rtation and tt) be set apnrt. 

Please let us knov/ your feelings v/ith regard to 
this ca.ll, and have your reply endorsed by your Bishop. 

Praying the Lord to guide you in this laattur, I 


The date appointed for your departure is v una 

Sincexeoy your Brd 


Lynn served as conference president part of the time. He was released after serving 
about twenty-eight months. 




Ralph B. Keeler: 

"It is always a pleasure for any man to see his friend serve God through serving his 
fellowmen. Lynn has spent a lifetime doing this. He has given many years to his church as a 
missionary, a leader of youth, a ward clerk, a building committeeman, a bishop, and, certainly, 
in giving full support to Celestia in her heavy responsibilities as a Relief Society general board 
member. He has also contributed his talent to various service groups in his community, such as 
the Lions Club, the American Legion, and the Sons of the Utah Pioneers."^ 

Henry D. Taylor: 

"The area in what is now the Pleasant View Ward was originally a part of the Provo 
Fourth Ward which was divided on January 18, 1891. The new ward was given the name of 
"Pleasant View Ward" because of its location near the foot of the mountains commanding a 
fine view of a large portion of Utah Valley. The organizational meeting was held in the Provo 
Fourth Ward meeting house with Heber J. Grant and Abraham H. Cannon, members of the 
council of the Twelve, presiding. Chosen and sustained as bishop of the new ward was 
Alexander Gillespie. He served in this position from January 18, 1891, to February 26, 1905. His 
counselors chosen were Charles S. Conrad as first counselor and George Ekins as second 
counselor. Other counselors who served during Bishop Gillespie's administration were: 
Abraham B. Liechty, Abraham M. Wilde, and John R. Stubbs. 

The Pleasant View Ward meeting house was located just north of the Page School on 
the Provo Canyon Road. It was built during the early 1920's when Sidney H. Cluff was bishop. 
Through shrewd purchasing of materials by Bishop Cluff and obtaining a maximum of donated 
labor, the total cost of the building was $34,441.85. Of this amount, $17,000.00 was paid by 
the Church. It was dedicated by President Heber J. Grant on June 5, 1932. The building is a 
monument to Bishop Cluff and the loyal and devoted members of the ward. The building was 
equipped with two hot-air, coal-burning furnaces which in really cold weather had to be forced 
until the furnace room door would become so hot that it was not possible to hold one's hand 
on the door. Even with this forcing, the furnaces did not have sufficient capacity to heat the 
chapel and the other rooms comfortably. 

Another matter of concern was the entrance to the chapel. Upon entering the building, 
one would walk up several steps to a corridor running across the building with the entrance to 
the chapel on the north and the cultural hall on the south end. The corridor was lined with 
hooks to provide for coats and hats. As one entered the building, all that could be seen were 
items of clothing. 

This ward commenced on Eighth North which was the north boundary of Provo City and 
continued to the Wasatch County line in Provo Canyon. The Pleasant View Ward was divided in 
1926, and the Edgmont Ward was organized. 

In 1932, when we moved into our new home in the Pleasant View, our nearest 
neighbors were the Liechty's and the George Muhlesteins, who lived in the old Muhlestein 


home. It was later lived in by the Angus L. Wall family. It has since been torn down. In the 
mouth of Rick Canyon to the north were the Will Goodman's, and to the west were the Mose 
and Darwish Kader families, together with the Alden Chatwins. To the south were the Ed. 
Isaacsons. These were our nearest neighbors. 

Some years later, my brother, Lynn, succeeded A. Ray Ekins as bishop of the Pleasant 
View Ward. Our stake president, Arthur V. Watkins, considered it an honor for a man to be a 
bishop and thought it was a blessing that should be granted to more worthy, capable, and 
qualified holders of the priesthood. Bishops were, therefore, recommended for release after 
having served around five or six years. I was the Sharon Stake Clerk while Lynn was serving as 


Lynn D. Taylor 

Lyim D. Taylor, new bishop of 
the Pleasant View wanl. 

Lysiii D. Taylor 
Named As Bishop 
At Pleasant View 

Lynn D. Taylor was sustained 
as the new bishop of the Pleasant! 
View ward, at the ward confer- 
ence held Sunday night under the 
direction of President A. V. Wat- 
kins. Sustained as counselors 
were Horace Bean and Edward 

Honorably released at the same 
meeting: were Bishop A.. Ray 
Ekins and his counselors, George 
Muhlestein and Sterling Cluff, who 
! have served the ward for six years. 

Bishop Taylor has been a suc- 
cessful "M" Men leader, and is 
Sunday school superinteiideiit. 
Mr. Bean has been M. I. A. presi- 
dent for several years, and Mr. 
Burgener has been a counselor hi 
the M. I. A. 

Each of the new and retiring 
bishopric members gave short 
talks, also Samuel Blake of the 
I stake presidency, and Tracy Col- 
vin, ward clerk, who was retained. 

The choir, under the direction 
of Celestia J. Taylor, and accom- 
panied by Ruth Stott, sang "The 
Heavens Resound.'' "Once More. 
Dear Home," "With One United 
Voice,'' "Rouse Oh Ye Mortals," 
and "Gloria." 

The prayers were by Henry D. 
Taylor and Spencer Madsen of the 
ligh councD. 


^ Ralph B. Keeler, Funeral Remarks 
^ Henry D. Taylor Autobiography 



Lynn D. Taylor 

In response to a request from your Superintendency, I'm going to give you a few vital 
statistics connected with the colorful history of our parent ward. 

The division of the Oak Hills ward adds another page to a very interesting history. 

t h 

The Pleasant View ward was originally part of the Provo 4 ward. Being too far to go to 
church in those "Horse and Buggy Days; it was decided to send two Elders up to hold church in 
a one-room log cabin near the present site of the Sharon-Industries cannery. The Elders, Jas. H. 
Snyder and Thaddeus H. Cluff gave this service for over two years, bringing their own wood 
with them each Sunday during the cold weather to stoke the stove in the drafty cabin. 

On January 18^^ (over 62 years ago) the Pleasant View ward was created. Everything 
north in Provo, from the river to the mountain — running north and extending clear up the 
Canyon to the Wasatch County line, comprised the new boundaries. 

Alexander Gillespie was chosen as the first Bishop, with Chas. Conrad and Geo. Ekins as his 
councilors. Church was held around in the different homes (not so different from our own 
Relief Society). 

In Feb. 1981 it was decided to build a meeting house. The lot we are now on was 
purchased from Samuel G. Cluff for the sum of $2.20. (How times have changed.) and 
construction was started April 30*^ of that year. 

Pres. A. Smoot of Utah Stake, (then covering this entire valley) and first Mayor of 
Provo, contributed $50, his first councilor David John $25 and members of the 4^^ and 1^^ wards 
in Provo gave $364.75. 

The ward at that time had 42 families with a population of 472, (over 10 to the family) 
and they donated the balance to make the total, $3,64.75. 

The church was finished and dedicated Sunday, May 26, 1895. It stood about where our 
present recreation hall now stands. 

It was said to be one of the finest churches in the valley. It's size was reported to be 33 
x50 ft. with a 50 ft. tower. It had 44 benches and could seat 375 people. (They must have sat 
awfully close together when the count was made.). I suspect some of those old benches are 
the same ones you still use in the classrooms and the recreation hall. 

The pulpit was upholstered by the Relief Society in "Quote - 'Grand Style with red silk 
plush". Aisles and stand were carpeted. And to again quote "walls were decorated with 
pictures of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Brigham Young, John Taylor, Wilford Woodruff, and a 
"nice clock". Center pieces of the ceiling were grand specimens of sculptor-work, showing 
Angels representing "Peace on Earth, Good will to man", under which chandeliers were 


A very significant motto was hung on the East wall, "Sacrifice brings forth the blessing of 
Heaven." Here's a reminder to our Building Committee - The total cost was $3,650.50 

On May 26^^1926 Pres. Thos. N. Taylor of the Utah Stake (Sharon Stake had not yet 
been thought of ), announced at a ward conference, that the ward would be divided. All area 
north of the Rock Canyon Wash was to be called the Edgemont Ward. 

Sidney H. Cluff continued on as Bishop of the Pleasant View ward and they decided to 
build a new church. They began to tear down the old structure on March 27, 1927. The new 
church we are now in, was completed and furnished ready for dedication on June 5, 1932. This 
was truly a great occasion -made even greater by the president of the church -Heber J. Grant, 
who was present and offered the dedicatory prayer. 

Great credit is due Bp. Cluff and the members of the ward, some of whom are here 
today, for their faithfulness and zeal in building the structure. The Muhlstein family, the 
Liechtys, the Phillips, the Beans, the Patten's, the Burgener's and others I may have overlooked 
deserve credit for their generosity. 

I think special mention should be made of these beautiful paintings on the wall behind 
me. The Sacred Grove picture particularly has always been an inspiration to me, and I know 
many others have enjoyed the message that it brings to us. These pictures were painted and 
donated by a famous Utah Artist, Bro. Orson D. Campbell, a member of the ward. 

It has been frequently said that this church represents "the Most Church for the Money 
ever built in this areas." With a population of 470 souls, the old church was torn down, this 
large new church was built and furnished for the modest sum of $34,441.85. 

After the dedication. Bp. Cluff was released and succeeded by the following Bishops: A 
Ray Ekins, Lynn D. Taylor, Henry D. Taylor, R. Bliss Allred, and, after dividing the ward in 1948, 
the Eastern half, our own Oak Hills ward came into existence with Bp. Naylor, Brother Snow and 
Brother Clark as the new bishopric. 

I am sure that the pages to be written by our new wards will be just as noteworthy as 
those of the past. 



Lynn D. Taylor 

When I was asked to give this welcoming speech I tried to figure why I was selected for 
the job, and I suddenly realized that I am in the "Old-Timer" class. How time does fly! It has 
been just about 19 years since we moved up on the Rock Canyon Bench and I've always thought 
of myself as a newcomer until I received the assignment. Only the Muhlstein's and the Liechtys 
and a few other pioneer families now ante-date the Taylors in this new ward of ours. When we 
moved up on the hill, we had to build the bridges, kill the snakes, build our own roads and even 
construct our own water systems. Whether we wanted privacy or not, we certainly got it, and 
with the ward now spreading in our direction so rapidly, we'll either have to move again or be 
content to be hemmed in. 

Our Ward's history is very intriguing. This area around Rock Canyon attracted settlers as 
soon as it was safe to move out from the protecting shadows of Fort Provo. One John Winkler 
known as "Dutch John" built a house just across the road from here. Apparently he was quite a 
character, and a real mule-skinner to boot. He would haul wood from Rock Canyon to sell in 
Provo, and not having a wagon he , dragged the logs out hitched directly to his mule as soon as 
he emerged from "Devil's Kitchen." 

The first settlers took up ground along the river bottoms because of the availability of 
water. Those settling on the oak covered hills were forced to haul their water from the river in 
barrels. Soon canals were built to supply irrigation as well as culinary water. 

John Bonnett took up ground along the benches on both sides of Rock Canyon. Mr. 
Bonnett was of Italian extraction and was the first "high-powered" real-estate salesman in the 
ward. An uncle of mine gathered up some gravel and said, "Just look at this soil -forty feet of 
loam and not a rock in it." Which reminds me of the time a real estate agent had a prospect in 
the Sub-division and was bragging about the fertility of the ground. His prospect said the view 
was fine but the ground seemed awfully rocky. The agent was telling him that the rocks 
contributed marvelously to the growing period as they retained the heat during the night, 
making a shorter growing season. Looking over the fence the prospect noticed a farmer picking 
up rocks to haul away in a wagon. Why was he hauling them off? "Oh!" said the agent "I've got 
to go call the owner. That fellow is stealing his precious rocks." 

I don't know what kind of salesmanship John Bonnett used on two families of Swiss 
converts who bought the bench-land on the south of Rock Canyon. Perhaps they saws the 
beauties of their homeland reflected in the rugged beauty of Squaw Peak and settled the high 
rocky foothills in preference to the rich black loam of the Fort Fields. They were thrifty, 
industrious and ingenious. They raised their own meat, grain and other foodstuffs, sheared 
their own sheep for wool which they spun into clothing, made their own shoes and even wove 
their straws hats. They built a road up rugged Rock Canyon and farmed quite an area under 
many handicaps. Older Provo people have told me that frequently during the winter, it was a 
familiar sight to see a member of these families down town with a bobsled load of maples or 
oaks drawn by oxen, delivering someone's supply of fuel. 




Military, Community, Civic and other activities 

n served in United State Army during the First World War. 

1. Ernest L Wilkinson, in his talk at Lynn's funeral, said that Lynn and Elton v^ere buddies in 
the Army Training Corporation on the BYU campus. He said that in the worst influenza 
outbreak, they all contracted it. Lynn, Elton and the rest survived. 

2. l-lenry D. Taylor's history - page 58 

"In the year 1917, World War One was in progress. A training program for soldiers had 
been established at BYU known as the Student Army Training Corps (SATC). Students 
who were old enough were enrolled. My brothers, Lynn and Elton, were both members, 
as was Ernest L. Wilkinson, who later became president of BYU. The Maeser Memorial 
Building served as barracks for the troops. 



Among Lynn's many hobbies and interests: 

1. Music: As a young boy, Lynn practiced tiie violin for a time. He loved classical music all 
of his life. He enjoyed collecting albums of beautiful classical music. 

2. Art: In earlier days he did some excellent watercolors. Lynn was an instructor in the 
BYU Art Department for many years. He and Celestia collected an assortment of art 
books and art pieces. Their home filled with artistic grace, music and literature.. 

3. Writing: Lynn was the associate editor of the White and Blue Student newspaper. His 
infrequent letters were beautifully and personally crafted always printed with his 
distinctive hand writing. His cursive hand was also beautifully done in earlier years. 

4. Acting: He acted in several plays at BYU. He and Celestia attended frequent plays, 
concerts and lyceums. 

5. Athletics: As a student, Lynn was manager of minor sports at BYU for one year. He was 
a member of the BYA tennis and wrestling teams. All of his life, he enjoyed and was an 
avid spectator attending BYU sports including wrestling matches, baseball, basketball 
and football games. He donated to BYU sports and made sure that he had excellent 
seats at all basketball and football events. 

6. Lynn was a member of the Lions Club, member of American Legion, officer in Provo 
Advertising Club, Cougar Club and the first president of Brickerhaven Corporation. 

7. Lynn was one of the organizers of Bonneville Development Co. (Oak Hills Subdivision.), 
and the Wildcat Investment Club. 

An interview between Jolin Taylor and Alice Nelson: 

JOHN;. ..There were a lot of children in your home. How did your mother think of Lynn, would 
you say? What's your memory of her relationship with her? 

ALICE; Oh , I think that where you have a lot of children and though they weren't very close to 
each other, she had her finger on each one and knew what they were doing, or thought she did. 
But then Lynn took up wrestling, something that she despised and he kept it under his hat until 
he got acne on his back from the dirty mats. And so then it had to come out that that's what 
he'd been doing. 

And then of course, he had to be sneaky about playing tennis because my dad did not think 
there was time to do things like that. He just needed to work all the time. And, of course, that 
came down from his dad too. And so, anyway, my dad called it chasing butterflies and he was 
very disgusted., so... 

JOHN; Was Lynn successful as a wrestler? 

ALICE: Oh I think so and he was very successful as a tennis player. He was on the BYU tennis 
team. He played a lot of tennis with his cousins. Buck and Sank Dixon. So he had to sneak out 
to play tennis. 

JOHN; When it all came out, then what happened? 


ALICE: Well, I don't remember whether my dad found out about it or not. I don't think, until 
Lynn was into the furniture business and all the rest of it. He always loved tennis. 

Ladell Peterson: 

"Lynn's love of sports - it was part of his life. He was thrilled to look forward to games. 
At Church council meetings he would discuss the game of the night before. Lynn loved the 
boys. He was known as one of the very few released from the hospital at ten to eight and 
required to come back after the game." 

Lynn purchased tickets for the new stadium. He had four tickets on the 50 yard line and 
he and Celestia hardly missed a game. They also had tickets for the basketball games. 



Ralph Keeler: 

By 1914 we were in high school at BYU. Lynn was showing interest and precocious skill 
in art. Loretta Young and Bert Eastman were art instructors. Lynn's early talent lead ultimately 
to his chosen profession, first as draftsman and designer in architecture, and finally, to interior 
decoration at BYU. 

Lynn was never a one-track man. I remember well, how varied his interests were in 
college. His chief concern, of course, was with his major field -Fine Arts. Here he was an able 
student. We envied his ability to earn A's. But he also involved himself in dramatics, and was a 
member of the Y-News staff and of the Banyan staff. He was also an excellent athlete, choosing 
tennis as his sport, and was selected to represent the school as a member of the Varsity team. 
He became a favorite with the student-body and we elected him manager of minor sports. 

Ernest L. Wilkinson: 

Lynn was a BYU instructor in Interior Design for thirty years. He was the only teacher in 
that field. He loved working with students and spent long hours with them studying problems. 
He entertained the faculty in his home. 

Resolution of tribute and respect honoring Lynn D. Taylor at Brickerhaven 

He served his country during the first world war, and later attended Brigham Young University 
from which he graduated in June 1923. Lynn loved the University and everything associated 
with it. He was an avid follower of the sports program. Even when busily engaged in his 
business activities, he took time to give instruction, in interior decorating and other artistic 
pursuits, at the school. 

Interview with John and Alice: 

JOHN; My father, as I seem to recall, was -I may be wrong— but it seems to me that I heard that 
when he was young he had the nickname, "Sonny," Is that true? 

ALICE: No, "Sunbeam". 

JOHN: "Sunbeam". Okay, tell me about that. 

ALICE; And I don't think he got that until he went to school over at the "Y". Because he wasn't 
called that when he was a little boy. 

JOHN; He didn't have any nicknames within the family? He was just always called Lynn? 

ALICE; that's right. And I don't know whether he was the one who named Henry, "Heinz." But 
"Sunbeam" was his. Lynn was a very good natured boy, everyone like him. 


JOHN; When he went to college he was called "Sunbeam" at BYU... 

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It was to be expected after the dike on Utah Lake washed out and the farm lands 
flooded, that Father would turn back to the work that he knew best and for which he was best 
qualified -that of the furniture business. 

Upon the advice and backing of his father (George Taylor), he and the following 
associates organized a new business: Albert F. Dixon, Sidney W. Russell, J. William Howe, Jr., 
Orson G. Bird, William D. Norman, and Hans O. G. Miller. The name of Dixon Taylor Russell 
Company was chosen, which represented the names of the vice-president (Albert F. Dixon), 
President (Arthur N. Taylor), and secretary-treasurer (Sidney W. Russell), respectively. George 
Taylor's advice of organizing new business and erecting a new building was followed, rather 
than buying out an already established and going business. 

Arthur traded his Taylor Investment Company stock and other consideration to his 
brother T. N. Taylor for the vacant corner lot on Third West and Center street, which was across 
the road south from the bank. During the summer of 1921, the newly organized Dixon Taylor 
Russell Company opened its door to the general public. During the summer Arthur and the 
other buyers of the company had made their purchases on the Eastern market and when the 
doors opened to the public, the attractive new building was stocked with all the new, latest, 
and most up-to-date home furnishings. 

The policy of marking each piece of merchandise with its selling price, which was the 
cash price and the lowest price, was well received by the public. This one-price policy for 
merchandise was something new for this area and displayed the integrity and honesty of the 
company in its desire to treat all customers the same, be he rich or be he poor. 

With Provo as the main store, during the next eight years ten branch stores were 
established in Springville, Payson, Pleasant Grove, and Orem. During the depression of 1930- 
33, the stores at Nephi, Heber, and Helper were closed. 

Economic conditions incident to the depression had created much unemployment. 
Customers of DTR Co. who had sizable installment accounts were unable to make payments on 
their accounts. Father had instituted a program where the employees were required to take 10 
percent of their salaries in produce. Many unemployed debtors were willing to offer their 
services for credit on their accounts, and others had fruits, vegetables, and other commodities 
to offer. These were referred to as "Produce Accounts." 

The worries and responsibilities of keeping the business open, what with the banks 
folding up and closing their doors and other financial organizations demanding payments due 
them, customers being unable to pay their bills, few sales being made, and the prospects of the 
business of supporting their families, was just too much for one man's shoulders to carry. 
Father's health began to fail, and he was never able to completely regain it. He, with the loyal 
support of his associates, was able to pull the company through the financial crisis of this 
period, and the business continued to grow and prosper. 


One of the guiding philosophies of life which exalted him in the eyes of his associates 
and friends -"I would rather suffer a wrong than do a wrong" Can be traced throughout the 
pattern of his life. 

Lynn spent several years as draftsman and designer in Joseph Nelson's architect office. 
He spent six months working at Barker Brothers, Los Angeles. He was manager of DTR Co. 
Drapery Department. He graduated from the School of Interior Decoration, New York. He was 
also advertising manager at DTR Co. 

Interview with Joiin and Aiice: 

JOHN; ..first Arthur, then Lynn, then Elton, then Henry, then Alice, then Clarence, then Ruth, 
and last, Kenneth. Okay what did your father think about Lynn? 

ALICE; My father was a man of such few words. Didn't ever express himself so you didn't ever 
know, except we knew by his expression and by his conversation what he thought of 
people... But he took a lot of pride in Lynn because he had a definite talent, especially for 

He saw a need for him in the furniture business and, at that time, interior decoration was just 
beginning to be a big thing— furnishing homes. And so, he got the idea that Lynn should. I 
think he sent him to California first to work in a store. 

JOHN; Yes, that was Barker Brothers, I think. 

ALICE; Yes, and to get the feel for what it was like to work in yardage. Now I don't know exactly 
what that meant because it had nothing to do with decoration from what I heard. But anyway, 
he cut off cloth and did all these things . They called them dry goods material that came in 
bolts. And I don't think it was very interesting to him. 

But then, my father sent him to New York to this school interior decoration and he did really 
well because there was so much sketching to do and he was filled with good ideas. He had a 
flair for architecture because in school, he must have taken some because he designed the 
furniture store (Dixon Taylor Russell Company). Those were his own drawings. He did all the 
specifications and everything for that store which took great skill. 

And then, of course, went into the interior things and was exceptionally good. All the women in 
Provo would have nobody else but him to come and decorate their homes. And I used to feel, I 
know that was out of joint because I worked down at the store with him, and they never would 
let me do anything. They always had to wait till he came and talked to them. But anyway, he 
had a natural flair for the things that were artistic and went together well and all. 

JOHN; I knew he designed Elton's home in Price, and I know that he worked for Joseph Nelson 
on the design of the Utah County Building. And I know that he designed our house, but I had 
never heard before that he actually worked on the Dixon Taylor Russell building as a draftsman 

ALICE; He did it from scratch. 


JOHN; Isn't that interesting! 

ALICE; I mean, the specifications and everything which are pretty detailed, as you know. You 
have to really have, you have to be knowledgeable to do it. So he evidently was. I can picture 
in my mind because I've seen them - some of those drawings that he made of that building. 

JOHN; Well, Alice, nobody else could tell me these things but you. In Grandfather Taylor's 
grand scheme of things, was it by intention or did it just fall out that Henry was a good financial 
man and became treasurer, and Art was a good manager and became president of Dixon Taylor 
Russell Co., and Uncle Bud was a great financial support to Henry, and Lynn took the drapery 
department, and Kenneth was in training to become the advertising person? And then when 
Ken did not survive, Dad took over advertising together with the drapery department. But who 
planned that, or did the boys just fall into that natural plan? 

ALICE; I think they did and Ken was planning to go back to school, the interior decorations 
school in New York. That's where he was when he got sick and had to come home. Of course, 
he couldn't finish because he died soon after that. But he had the same kind of ability that Lynn 
did and so that's what he was going to be trained to do. To come in and help Lynn in that 



tJie NEW \r»K SOKBL a 


Ckariered by Afe Board of Regents 
University of the Stale of New York 

SHHRRll<l,WmTON, President 
jKSSiCA Hditon, Secretary 

Ueptember ^, 1929 

Sizon - Taylor •> Kassell Co« 
ProTOf Utah 

Gent lemen: 

Be: Mr* l^zm D. iPaylor 

Daring the past summer one of your salesmen* 
Mr. L. D. Taylor, took: our iTactioal draining course 
in Interior Decoration and we would lifce you to fcnow how 
pleased we were with his worfc» Hia record shows an aver- 
age mark: of ninety- three which we consider excellent* 

It is a great pleasure to have young men of 
this type with us and we are sure you will feel mutually 

Assuring you of our interest, we remain 





John Arthur Taylor 

Lynn Dixon Taylor, my father. When my brother-in-law, Monte DeGraw heard me talking 
of my work on Clarence Dixon Taylor; His Life and Work, he growled, "You ought to forget 
writing about Uncle Bud's life and write your own father's life!" 

Easy to say but while Uncle Bud (Clarence) left behind 15 file boxes filled with histories, 
genealogical records, stories, essays; my dad left behind— in the way or written records— one 


rather long essay, 'Vur home on the Hill/ and a few dinner speeches, and nothing else. That he 
was a compelling writer is evidenced by "Our Home on the Hill," written sometime between 
July and September 1965. We would not even have that had I not found some rough notes in 
his desk after his death. I edited and typed this recollection and it has now found its way into 
many people's books and libraries, including mother's personal history, Through A Lifetime. 

My father was born May 6, 1898, and he died in 1967, at the relatively young age of 69. 
Because of my years as a missionary, soldier, graduate student, and businessman in Ohio, I 
missed a lot of dad's last two decades. Another bitter regret is that dad died while my own 
family was driving to Utah from Ohio on summer vacation and we reached Provo several hours 
after his death. 

This little memoir is my belated attempt to express my love, appreciation, and 
admiration for a remarkable husband and father with whom I'd like to have spent much more 
time in our older years. 

No one who has not been the oldest child in a family can understand the really unusual 
dynamic of that child's relationship with his parents. It is a very unusual relationship with 
tension on both sides, for the first child is really the subject of experimentation as he "breaks- 
in" two brand new parents. It is wonderful that the parents and the child survive this 

As this is about my father, I will focus on my recollections of the man I called "daddy," 
all through my childhood. 

When we first met, in Provo's Crane Maternity Hospital, dad was 30 years old, about 
five feet seven inches tall, probably weighing about 160 pounds and strongly built. He had 
smooth red hair, not bright, but a pleasing shade. Recently I had occasion to look up dad's Utah 
County World War I Military Registration Form, filled out September 12, 1918, in which the 
Registrar certifies that he is "Short, of Medium Build, with Blue Eyes, and Red Hair." At that 
time, twenty years of age, dad used plain cursive handwriting to fill out the form, not the 
attractive individualistic style of his later life. 

Dad was the second oldest of six brothers and two sisters, and all the boys had red hair 
of varying shades except the fourth son, Henry, whose hair was dark. I have always assumed 
the red hair came to us from the Dixon side of the family, but I have just read Aunt Ruth's 
personal history and learned for the first time that Grandfather Arthur Taylor's hair was red! 
My only memory of him is that his hair was grey. On the other hand, Ruth says her mother, 
Maria Dixon, less than five feet tall, had long thick black hair! 

Lynn was always a boy and man who was well liked by all. He had a pleasing personality, 
and as a youth had the nickname, "Sunbeam." 

His father, Arthur Nicholls Taylor, was benevolent and kind, but he was also totally 
committed to teaching his children to work hard. Lynn was athletic and together with his 
brothers and cousins played all the games. His interest in wrestling and tennis ran into conflict 
with his father and he had to fight to be involved in high school and college sports, and there 
were severe problems. 


Grandfather Taylor had a lot of business and farnning enterprises, many of which, 
viewed objectively at a distance in time, were more effective in helping members of his own 
family (his younger brother Ashted said many times: "Arth's the only father I ever knew!") and 
in keeping his children busy with chores, rather than in making money. 

My father was very talented. Early on he developed an interest in architecture and was 
a fine draftsman. He took courses from ICS (International Correspondence School) while still in 
high school, and told me that early in the morning he would set up his drafting board in the 
kitchen of his home to work on assignments. Later he worked in the office of a prominent local 
architect and had a hand in the design of the magnificent Provo City and County Building on the 
southeast corner of University Avenue and Center Street. Still later he designed his and Henry's 
home on the hills east of Provo, Elton's home in Price, and important modifications and 
improvements to Taylor properties on west Center Street inside and out. I believe that dad 
would have selected a career in architecture, except, as he told me, the upper reaches of the 
required mathematics thwarted him. His lifelong friend, Fred Markham achieved prominence in 
architecture, and was married to dad's first cousin Maud Dixon. 

While dad, as noted hereafter, became a highly successful interior designer, he did not 
seem to have much interest in the further development of his artistic skills. That his latent 
ability was prodigious is evidenced by the time I well remember, when he purchased some 
watercolor supplies and good papers, and in a short time and seemingly without practice 
turned out a few really wonderful renderings after which he lost interest. Unfortunately these 
were not cared for and preserved and are lost. However, I seem to recall that Lynn Anne was 
able to save, and perhaps now has, one or two of these specimens. 

At some point dad went to work for his father at Taylor Brother's Department Store. 
According to his brother Clarence, among dad's duties at the close of the business day, was to 
spread sheeting over all the bolts of fabrics or displays to protect them against dust or soot 
during the night or on Sundays and holidays. Coal was universally used to provide heat, and 
soot settled on every level surface. I remember as a child in our first home, seeing tiny flecks of 
soot on the windowsills, and one of every housewife's chores in the spring was to wipe down 
the walls and ceilings with wallpaper cleaner, a handful of doughy substance that would pick up 
all the dust and grime. 

After Arthur N. and his brothers and associates established Dixon-Taylor-Russell 
Company just across the street from Taylor Brother's Department Store, my father was sent to 
work for Barker Brother's famous home furnishings business in Los Angeles for a short season 
in which he enhanced his knowledge of the drapery business for which he was being groomed 
to develop at DTR. 

Dad also spent a few months at the New York School of Interior Design to further 
develop his knowledge and skill. I recently discovered a letter (since misplaced) sent, possibly to 
his father at DTR, complimenting him on Lynn's work as a student. Dad's proficiency as a 
draftsman enabled him to produce an exhaustive book full of beautiful drawings and tracings of 
period furniture and historic bric-a-brac that he had to master. 


Over the 43 years of DTR's existence and dominance of the home furnishings business in 
Central Utah (at one point there were seven or more branch stores) dad built the Drapery 
Department, and associated upholstering and slipcover business, into one the biggest 
operations in the state. Moreover, and I am not exaggerating for I have heard this with my own 
ears, scores of women in the area served by DTR declared they would have no one other than 
Lynn Taylor help them with their home decorating. 

When my father was courting Celestia Johnson, over quite a long period it seems, as 
she was in no hurry to marry, he would borrow the family car to drive on weekends over to 
Grantsville in Tooele County where she was teaching school. It is hard to imagine the difficulty 
of this journey in the 1920's, as the distance of fifty miles or more was over rough roads in the 
less reliable cars of that era. And the journey forth and back would have been at least 100 
miles. Dad's father Arthur N. was obviously amused, as he is reported to have said, "Lynn 
wouldn't do it if it were not for those sparkling black eyes!" 

When I come to our cabin in Brickerhaven, I nearly always spend a few moments 
contemplating three large photographs of our parents hanging above the kitchen stove. Often 
in my obeisance I talk to the photos (with no one else around, of course). I have enlarged these 
from surviving snapshots and placed them in rustic frames. 

I would date the photos to about 1924. One piece of evidence is that Janice has 
unearthed a photograph of a group at a 1924 Gold Bricker Spring Festival including Lynn and 
Celestia and they appear to be wearing the same clothes, as I will discuss below. 

The three photos depict Lynn and Celestia in their youth and beauty, and are worth 
describing for those who have not seen or examined them carefully. 

The snapshots appear to have been taken on the same day. Their pose in each photo is 
elegant and interesting. 

In the first they are perched side by side on the top of a three-pole fence, probably in 
Wildwood near the Taylor's well-beloved "ANT" cabin. They are impeccably dressed for an 
outing on a sunny day. Lynn's feet are on the second pole, while Celestia's are on the bottom 
pole. Her hands are resting behind her. They are both wearing Jodhpur breeches with lace-up 
boots. Lynn has on a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. He is wearing a tie 
with, oddly, the under end longer than the top end. He is clean-cut and well groomed. His 
hands are crossed at the wrists and hanging between his knees. Celestia is wearing, besides a 
nice smile, a mid-thigh belted jacket with lapels, a blouse with a white collar and a long thin tie. 
It must be cool as she is wearing a nubbly sweater under her jacket. She is wearing some sort of 
flower on her right lapel. She has a dimple in her right cheek that I have never noticed in her 
mature years. Her dark hair is marcelled and she has an artful lock hanging on her right brow. 

The next two photos were taken on a cliff alongside Stewart's Falls above present-day 
Brickerhaven. They took snapshots of each other in charming poses. "Cess" has discarded her 
belted jacket and is now down to her nubbly sweater. She is wearing a very large slouch cap. 
She is twisted at the waist, her left hand on her hip, and is wearing a very sexy, yet demure 
smile, and is the very picture of insouciance. The stock of the Taylor family .22 rifle is resting on 
the ground by her side, the sight of the barrel caught in her left trouser pocket. 


Lynn, in his photo is the very model of the intrepid outdoorsman. He is slight of figure 
but slim and strong. A lock of hair falls over his right brow. The stock of the rifle is resting on the 
ground and he is grasping the top of the barrel in his right hand. The strap of the camera case is 
slung over his right shoulder. 

As I carefully examine the photographs of this attractive couple in the confidence, 
optimism, and beauty of their youth, I am moved to tears, and I so very proud and happy to be 
their child. I look forward to being with them again sometime in another place. 

Dad married Celestia Marguerita Johnson, on August 17, 1927. He was 29, and she was 
24. Their first child, John Arthur Taylor, was born October 2, 1928. Speedy work, that. 

Their first home was a small house rented from John Tranham Taylor, dad's uncle. John 
T. Taylor was proprietor of a grocery store on west Center Street, close by. As of this writing, 
John T. Taylor has a surviving daughter. Norma Gardiner, who lives in the Oak Hills Stake. The 
John T. Taylor's lived next door to our rented house, and Norma who is three years older than I 
claims to have observed me as a small child. 

It will provide perspective to note that I lived in this house from the time I was born 
until 1933 when we moved into our new home on the hill, at age five. 

I have some good memories of our first home, but I wish now that I had listened more 
carefully to mother's description of it. My father had done everything possible to make it a 
"little bit of heaven." He was a freshly ordained interior decorator, with access to DTR's fabrics 
and furnishings, and according to mother, it was beautifully appointed. At that time-and for 
years to come-dad's financial resources were small so that would have been a limiting factor. 

While this memoir is about dad, I can't resist relating four more personal memories 
about living in this home (besides the little flecks of soot on the window sills). 

In the entry hall there was a metal grill through which hot air flowed from the furnace 
below. I vividly remember sitting down on that grill without wearing my diaper. Presto, waffle- 
shaped burns on my nether person! 

From the lintel over a door between two rooms my father had suspended a little canvas 
seat with holes for my legs and my feet just cleared the ground. A heavy spring at the top 
enabled me to bounce and jounce, and I believe I found this much to my fancy. When my 
youngest son David was a tot we tried a similar appliance with him, but "it did not suit;" he 
hated it. 

I had a small tricycle and in learning to manage it in my new material world, I drove it 
from the dining room into the kitchen, not understanding the peril of the two steps leading 

My mother's grandmother, Rhoda Young McNicol Nash, visited us in her old age, and 
stayed for a short time. It may seem incredible, but I remember her as a dark somber person 
clad in black sitting on our front porch. I say incredible as she died in December of 1930 when I 
had only shortly been two years old. She was born in 1842; as I write this I am nearly 82, thus 
our touching lives reach across 168 years! Our great grandmother's life story with all her trials 
and triumphs is told elsewhere in our family annals. 


One of my earliest memories is of Dad's taking me to the mouth of the Provo to swim. 
His father had many enterprises in that area and dad was intimately familiar with the river and 
its best swimming holes. He would place me on the bank and entice me to jump in and he 
would rescue me from drowning. On one occasion we were having great fun, until I jumped in 
on my own, he unaware. I suppose he rescued me from strangling. I really didn't learn to swim 
until years later in the upper reaches of the same river at Wildwood. 

After Dad and Henry selected building sites on the hills above Provo, and dad had 
designed houses, their father agreed to let them make use of lumber that had formerly been 
part of their failed resort, Provanna. I remember one of the doors in our basement still bore a 
bathhouse number. Construction was begun and we moved in, in 1933. 

Contractors and subcontractors were involved but after long days at DTR (8:30 a.m. to 
6:00 p.m.), dad would go up "on the hill" to our building site to clean up, move dirt and rocks 
and so forth. I often went along. One evening my Grandma Johnson made us a paper sack full 
of French fries, as we were going to spend the night sleeping on the floor of our new home (the 
walls were not yet up). Dad and I wrapped in blankets and ate fries under a starry sky. That is a 
happy memory! 

A little later when the home was near completion dad was pushing a wheelbarrow 
loaded with rocks. He was coming around the house in one direction and I was running around 
the house in the other. We collided and the lip of the wheelbarrow hit me right in the chest. I 
was knocked as cold as a wedge. Dad was scared to death. I have no memory of this but was 
told the story. 

I have another very happy memory of our new home on the hill. In the basement on the 
south side there was a room about nine feet wide and perhaps fourteen feet long. This was to 
be my bedroom, and dad had designed a sailing ship motif. At the west end there was a built in 
bunk bed framed by planks, the edges of which had been decorously fretted. Underneath the 
bed were two large pull out drawers. High on the south wall there were two small narrow 
windows, and the door into the room had a glass window. I have forgot the nature of the 
window treatment but I recall a nautical design in the fabric. On the wall and near the bed 
there were several electric lights designed to look like ship's lanterns. The walls and woodwork 
were painted white. The overall effect was entirely charming. Over the years that lie between I 
have thought with gratitude about dad's loving kindness in preparing this wonderful bedroom 
for his first son. In actuality it was a disaster. The room was unheated. It was cold and tended 
toward damp without being so. It was far from my parent's bedroom. It was lonely and scary 
for a five or six year old. In a short time it was abandoned as a bedroom, and Janice and I were 
happily consigned to a "sleeping porch" built above the garage that was underneath the house 
on the east. 

Traditionally, in dad's home on Fifth West, the boys slept in an unheated "sleeping 
porch," in the back yard. This structure was eventually moved up on the hill when later we 
needed to install more telephones, a story told in Uncle Bud's history. 

Our sleeping porch was unheated, and every night when commanded to go to bed 
Janice and I would race across the freezing floor and into the freezing bed. Sometimes we 


would be permitted to take the family hot water bottle with us, and at some point I had a black 
and white cat that was very useful in providing warmth under the covers. Later mother added 
some cotton sheets to her inventory that formerly consisting of only percales, and that was a 
great blessing. 

The sleeping porch had no window glass, only screens around and around. Janice will 
support my testimony that many a morning we would awake to find snow that had sifted in 
through the screens and onto the bed. 

When our home on the hill was built, the surrounding grounds were completely barren 
except for rocks and cheat grass. Dad began to plant trees of various kinds. I went with him to a 
canal bank on the Provo Bench (Orem) someplace where he dug up a Poplar and transplanted it 
into our lawn 15 feet from the door to the kitchen. That tree eventually got to be 75' tall and its 
trunk was two feet in diameter. 

Dad purchased some small fast growing trees that were purportedly Chinese Elms, and 
planted several of them. They grew fast indeed and have been one of dad's most successful 
legacies, or perhaps I should say curses. The trees he planted were most probably Siberian 
Elms, which are unusually prolific, producing small seeds in the center of a membrane disc the 
size of one's little fingernail that are carried far and wide in the millions by the slightest breeze. 
Located on the hill with winds out of Rock Canyon, the progeny of his trees were broadcast, I 
kid you not, all over Utah Valley and beyond, and are roundly cursed. They grow in any soil and 
are drought resistant. Each spring Catherine sweeps up gallons of these seeds in our yard or 

A remarkable Apricot tree grew in our lawn. As a small boy I planted an Apricot pit that 
sprouted. I nurtured it and it grew into a mighty tree. I always thought of it as a volunteer, but it 
is possible that dad got Heber Liechty to graft it. Whatever, it produced wonderful large 
apricots in rich abundance. 

Another fruit tree episode was not so successful. On the north side of our driveway 
there was a small pie cherry tree that produced a great amount of fruit. Dad got the idea that 
he could turn it into a sweet cherry tree by having Heber graft it. So one spring dad cut most of 
the branches back to the trunk and expected the tree to produce new shoots. Sadly, the tree 
simply died, to our regret, as the tree was a sort of family pet. 

When we were small children my grandfather Johnson sometimes took my sister Janice 
and me to the A&W root beer stand on the corner of First South and University Avenue. They 
had kid's size root beer served in a frosted mug. I was mad for it. Once when the family was out 
for a joyride in the car we were promised a stop at A&W. I could not control my excitement and 
kept up a perpetual patter, "give me root beer, give me root beer!" This wore dad out and he 
said, "Why don't you ask for whiskey?" This shut me down until the waitress came to the car 
window to take our order. I asked for whiskey. 

My Grandfather Taylor had two horses, Tony and Prince, that I guess were stabled on 
the farm, or maybe even in the barn at the back of the family home on Fifth West, but certainly 
sometimes were roving the foothills behind the barbed wire fences Clarence and Kenneth had 
erected. One beautiful summer day, dad and mom got the horses saddled and we set forth up 


Rock Canyon. Janice and I were in the party. I'm guessing this was about 1937. Lynn Anne was 
born in 1935 so she must have been left home in someone's care. The canyon was lovely and 
green. During a rest stop I remember closely examining some buttercups. Dad brought along a 
.22 pistol and he and mom took a few shots. Then proceeding up "First Left," we rode to the 
top of the ridge and south to the very tip of Squaw Peak. I remember dad's tethering the two 
horses to a cedar tree, while we looked over the edge and down onto our home and Utah 
Valley below. When I was a little older I ransacked the house many times trying to find that .22 
pistol, but I guess dad had borrowed it, or disposed of it. 

In the thirties and forties, people typically worked six days a week. Certainly 
businessmen recovering from the Great Depression had to do so. Our dad worked from around 
nine in the morning to six at night, with time off for lunch, of course, Monday through Saturday, 
so his early evenings in the summer were very valuable to him, and he frequently had projects 
going on that involved terracing or building rock walls. He loved to build rock walls and his 
method was to dig out the space, then build a wall of boards ten or twelve inches from the 
earthen surface, then drop in smooth rocks— our principal crop on the hill— ranging in size 
from softballs to bread loaves, alternating with concrete poured in on top, and tamped down as 
best possible. In those days before concrete mixing plants, home projects were generally 
accomplished through use of a mixing trough, buckets of water, shovels, and any available 
hands. For bigger projects, small size concrete mixers were generally available to borrow. A 
consequence is that the concrete greatly varied in composition and quality. When the forms 
were taken down, voila! The results were attractive walls consisting of lots of rocks and 
probably not enough concrete, but I don't recall one ever falling down. Dad had a penchant for 
embedding carefully spaced bottles in the tops of his walls, after broken off flush. I believe the 
intention was that these holes would accommodate posts or poles, which might be required 
later. My recollection is that even after years, the holes would remain empty. 

Snakes and spiders were a very much a part of our environment, "blow" snakes were 
often seen near our home. When Eph Leichty mowed his alfalfa he usually inadvertently cut up 
a few. They are quite large snakes and are often mistaken for rattlers. Though not poisonous 
they are death to rattlesnakes. Black Widow Spiders were very common and while wary we did 
not especially fear them. Dad one time captured one with her round, fuzzy egg in the web, and 
put it in a quart jar and took it down to DTR. The egg hatched releasing a gang of little spiders 
and somehow the bottle got opened or broken. For a long time the boys in the warehouse at 
the rear of the store had to cope with the results. 

Water was always the big bugbear in our early life on "The Hill." Eph Leichty had a ditch 
that watered an orchard of Italian Plums and other trees just east and south of Henry D. 
Taylor's home and the plan for providing our culinary water was to take water from this ditch 
into a cistern built under Henry's house. The water in this ditch had in interesting history. 

In the days of the early settlers, the Muhlesteins, and the Leichty's and others had 
captured the water in the back of Rock Canyon, and with incalculable labor built a concrete 
flume to deliver the water into a large diversion box, maybe twenty feet square. On the north 
and south sides there were gates to control the distribution of the water to farmers on the 
benches to the north and south of the canyon. On the north the ditch was called the 


"Hardscrabble." The south ditch and its various branches fed users all along the bench. The 
distribution of water was governed by water shares purchased by users and was jealously 
guarded. When it was Eph Leichty's "Water Turn," the water would run through his cow 
pasture where his cows and horses were kept, and did their business, and along the brow of the 
hill and into a cistern near his house, and then down a very steep incline to the next level of old 
Lake Bonneville terraces, north along the edge of the Wasatch Fault, then west toward Henry 
Taylor's, watering Eph's pastures, alfalfa fields, orchards, etc., all along the way. The Taylor 
Family water turn was on the heels of the Leichty turn, and then the cistern would be filled and 
the water would be available for use on our own gardens and lawns. 

Now the water turns were highly irregular by hour of the day, coming on at scheduled 
times that were often early or late at night. A provoking aspect of agricultural water is that a 
user's turn begins at a certain time, but he cannot benefit from it until the water has reached 
his property. When water is turned into a dry ditch it proceeds very slowly. A tongue of water 
moves forward sampling the dirt it seems and then picks up speed very slowly. Farmers must 
keep their ditches clean, because ditches filled with growing weeds or debris impede and even 
diminish the flow of water. So during the water turn, the user is often patrolling his ditches to 
remove clogs, prevent overflows, repair breeches in the sides of the ditch, and horror of 
horrors, to take quick action when he finds that the water has found a gopher hole in the ditch 
and has enlarged it and the water is pouring away onto the wrong property. One time the 
water in the ditch by Henry's house "got away," by bursting the north side and pouring down 
the steep hill into Rock Canyon. No one knew of this for many hours and a great scouring of the 
hill took place, resulting in the loss of hundreds of tons of earth, and creating a gorge fifty feet 
wide and a hundred and fifty feet long, a truly ugly blight. Verl Allman later bought that lot, 
building a home on the top of the hill, and spent many years filling and re-vegetating that big 
hole. Today, it's green, but still visible! 

Back to our culinary water, which entered Henry's cistern after passing through Eph 
Leichty's cow pasture and thousands of feet of earthen ditches. People keep telling me that we 
transported our drinking water from Provo. Well, we did when the cistern ran dry on occasion, 
but let me tell you, friends, we drank out of the tap. Sometimes the water would be taken to 
some County laboratory for testing, and the word would come back, something like; "This 
water is not fit for human consumption and should not be used for culinary purposes." We 
drank it and we survived, and we thrived, and probably developed some valuable immunities. 

My dad handled the water turns, but sometimes he got me to help him in the night even 
though I was very young, and I learned how to manage the water as well as to be terrified of it. 
I mentioned above that the water came down a very steep slope by Eph's house. Years of 
erosion in that channel had made it a very stony watercourse, and the water as it poured down 
made a loud clattering noise, the sound of which easily carried to my bedroom window. At 
night I would awake hearing the awful noise of the water headed in our direction and be totally 
worried that the water was coming into our ditches and that maybe no one was taking control 
of it; that it would escape, and do the sort of damage of which unloosed water is capable. Even 
to this very day, seventy years later I occasionally have nightmares in which I hear the sound of 
that roaring stream and wake up in a sweat. In other homes I've lived in subsequently in Ohio 


and Provo, I have had occasions when there have been bad incidents involving uncontrolled 
water and I both fear and hate it. 

On numerous occasions when dad had to go to the Market in Chicago, and would be 
away for a week or two, it invariably happened that our water turn was at midnight, or three 
a.m., and I would have to go out with a bod flashlight and a shovel, and spend hours coaxing 
the water down the ditch to irrigate our garden or lawn. I have had a lot of experience with bad 
flashlights; maybe that's why I am so fixated on them today. Wherever I am you can be sure 
there will be terrific flashlights "ready to hand." 

Our dad had some highly interesting and even scary experiences involving bringing 
down the water to fill the cistern in deep winter when the ditches were frozen, and even with 
problems involving ownership of the water which he describes in his excellent monograph, 
"Our Home On The Hill," included elsewhere in this book. 

All who knew my father recognized that he had some true pioneer genes, and he was 
always thinking of new and for the most part practical ideas for improving his life or the lives of 
others. Sometimes these developments worked out beautifully (Brickerhaven, for example), 
and some ideas that were brilliant in concept turned out to have feet of clay, such as in pruning 
the cherry tree. One such involved the lawn at "Pussy Willow Bend." 

I digress briefly to mention that when we first moved up on the hill, sewer lines were 
not even thought of. We had a septic tank, a so-called "cesspool," located on the steep hillside 
just to the west of our home. Apart from a few gambrel oak clusters, the hill was pretty barren. 
Mother thought she would plant some pussy willows at the outlet of the septic tank. They 
simply loved that location and flourished. As the dugway, as our dirt road up the hill was called, 
wrapped around our property, "Pussy Willow Bend," seemed to fit. 

Water from the family cistern was not to be wasted watering lawns, so dad decided to 
harness the water from the ditch, of which we didn't then use much. He had an ingenious and 
well-developed idea and though it required a lot of work he employed it with joy. Along the top 
of our lawn (at the east side of our property he built a narrow, covered concrete channel. About 
every eight or ten feet there was a little gate set into the channel fitted with a galvanized metal 
baffle that could slide up and down to release water onto the lawn. At DTR he had one of the 
women in the drapery sewing room make several long bags of canvas perhaps twenty feet in 
length, maybe eight inches in diameter of. When watering time came the bags could be affixed 
to the gate openings, the main channel could be blocked, and the water would pour out onto 
the lawn. The canvas bags would release water along their length, but would also carry the 
water far out into the lawn. Eventually it was too time consuming to worry about the bags, and 
the water was let to flow over the lawn unencumbered. Alas, there was a fatal flaw to this 
scheme, and it was eventually abandoned. The problem? The water coming through the ditch 
was laden with sand or clay, and the particulates were dropped on the lawn, eventually building 
up mounds of sand covered with grass. Also, I recall the channel (under the driveway) 
containing the water also plugged up. Paraphrasing I think Huxley: "...The slaying of a beautiful 
hypothesis by an ugly fact." 


Came the time our sleeping porch was divided in two so that Janice and Lynn Anne 
could have a bedroom and I would have the other half. Over time our little home on the hill was 
divided and subdivided to accommodate the needs of our growing family. Dad was able to 
obtain large crates used to contain and ship carpet rolls or furniture. These were lined with a 
plywood-like material and dad used them to cover the walls of the new bedrooms. If I ever get 
around to writing my own history I shall have a lot to say about my bedroom sanctuary. The 
garage under the sleeping porch was before long abandoned, as the pitch of the drive down 
into it was incompatible with the heavy snow and getting in an out impossible. In the later 
thirties, a BYU student would sometimes come to live with us, as a roomer, not a boarder 
though I don't know or remember what the financial arrangements were, or where the guy 
slept, perhaps in my old room down the basement. However part of the deal was that the 
student would help dad with his never-ending projects around our small property. The east end 
of the drive down into the old garage was dug away, and retaining walls built on three sides, 
with a concrete stairway on the east, to form a sunken garden, in which there was planted a 
flourishing apricot tree and other plants around the base of the wall. The floor of the garden 
was grass, but it never did too well. My recollection is of two male students who thus served. 
One was diligent and a hard worker. The other was just the opposite. At a later time the 
dividing wall in the sleeping porch was removed to build a larger bedroom for mom and dad, a 
dining room was build in their old bedroom space, and the garage underneath was nicely fitted 
out as a bedroom for me and George, and we occupied the space companionably despite a 
large age gap between us. Dad even placed a fireplace in this bedroom though it was seldom 
used. A problem with most fireplaces is that they do not draw well and this one was no 

Business hours were very different for my father than for most business- men today. I 
don't recall for sure what time in the morning the DTR store opened, but it must have been 
around nine a.m. After delivering all the children to school, dad and Henry would be at the 
store until six in the evening. Businesses were typically open six days a week, and days taken off 
were rare. 

Before World War II and during the war, dad and Henry each had only one car, and they 
would take turns driving to work and taking the children to school and back. This made it 
possible to leave one car on the hill for Celestia and Alta, in the event of important trips. 
However, gas rationing and the extreme difficulty of replacing tires meant that travel 
anywhere, anytime was sharply curtailed. 

During our grade school years, Janice, Henry D. Junior ("Dee"), and I would usually 
trudge to school early in the morning, about a two and a half mile trip to the lower campus of 
BYU where we attended the Elementary Training School. As thermometers were unknown in 
our homes, and the radio never mentioned temperature (the "wind-chill factor" hadn't been 
invented yet), we did not know that some mornings it must have been well below freezing as 
the snow made that crunching sound that signifies near zero. But we were so cold. 

At times when it was possible to pick up the children and bring them home for a brief 
lunch period, dad would take a quick nap on the living room couch, twenty minutes being the 


longest siesta possible. It was just impossible for me to avoid interrupting his nap to ask a 
question, but he took it in good spirit. 

Sometimes when dad was stuck downtown at lunchtime, he would head west down 
Center Street to the Bonnett & Vacher Drug Store, which had a little lunch counter, and he 
would have a sandwich. As I recall, he was an old friend of the proprietor. Dad was not a 
gambling man, but they had a very attractive little feature that was definitely a "game of 
chance." A punchboard, so-called was to be found in almost all drug stores and many other 
places of business. It was a board composed of many thicknesses of paper or cardboard, 
colorfully decorated, drilled with hundred of tiny holes into which had been inserted small 
plugs of paper, then the tops of the holes were artfully covered. The object was that after a 
player had paid the proprietor, what? A nickel or whatever, he could use a small wire punch 
and selecting a hole at random, or using "his intuitive system," would punch out the plug and 
unroll a tiny slip of paper to find out if he had won a prize, which could range from an excellent 
rifle or a piece of fishing equipment down to a candy bar. The board contained so many holes 
that it covered the cost of the prizes as well as the payoff to the vendor and the shop owner. I 
doubt dad played this game often, but one time he came home with a prize he'd carried off; 
quite a large group of candy bars, nougat filled and covered with crushed nuts. We didn't often 
have candy in our home, except when we made honey candy or vinegar taffy, and as we all had 
a "sweet tooth," except for dad, and candy vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Mother took 
charge of dad's bounty and it was hidden away, to be doled out a small piece at a time, usually 
before we went off to bed. The hoard lasted quite some time and we were sad to see the end! 

Coming out of the depression years of the thirties, our parents had to be very 
economical. I don't remember ever, going to a restaurant with my parents, nor do I recall ever 
going on an out-of-town vacation with my parents, except for one-day picnic or sightseeing 
trips. After dad built his dream cabin in Brickerhaven (begun in 1939), he almost never wanted 
to be anywhere else during the summers when he had any time off. Usually the family would 
move up to Brickerhaven in the summer and he would commute to Provo every morning and 
back every evening. However we would move back and forth as necessary for groceries, 
laundry. Church, and so forth. The only vacation I recall taking with my parents was after my 
military service when we drove down to the Grand Canyon, or Zion's or Bryce's or whatever. 
Janice will remember as she was working down there at the time. 

Over the years dad's responsibilities at Dixon Taylor Russell Company broadened. In 
addition to governing the decorating department including the drapery and upholstery he also 
was de facto Advertising Manager and a good one. More about this later. Sometime in the 40's 
Provo's first radio station— KOVO— began operation, and was used gingerly by DTR. During the 
war the station carried Cedric Foster, a nationally syndicated news commentator. He had a very 
distinctive voice and delivery. In those days before television, newspapers and radio were very 
important to every household. War news was the hot topic for years and Dad was really 
committed to Foster's 15 or 30-minute broadcasts during the noon hour. Days when the family 
was at home for lunch and sitting at table, it was verboten for us to chatter during Foster's 
broadcasts, as dad was keenly attentive. He could be sharp with us at such times. 


Here is another KOVO anecdote: I don't know who came up with this clever idea, but 
dad embraced it. DTR had a strong tie with the Simmon's Mattress Company and over many 
years a gazillion mattresses were sold. For a long time when KOVO signed off at midnight the 
announcer would say something like: "The next six hours of uninterrupted quiet, peace and 
slumber are brought to you by the Dixon Taylor Russell Company." 

Dad, and other managers at DTR went to Chicago to the buyer's mart probably twice per 
year where they would purchase furniture, appliances, draperies, carpets, accessories, and so 
forth. It was quite exciting for all of them and they greatly looked forward to the excitement of 
these occasions. Once he took mother, leaving us in the care of Grandmother Johnson. 

It is my recollection that early in 1938, my parents went to Chicago, and planned to visit 
Detroit to pick-up a new car. In those days, and in fact up until World War II, one could order a 
car through a local dealer and take delivery at the factory, saving freight charges and other 
expenses, which turned up enough money to largely pay for a mid-western vacation. 

I remember my excitement when a brand new powder blue 1938 Dodge drew up to the 
curb in front of Grandma Johnson's house on their return to Provo, to pick up their three 

One of the dramatic events of my life involved that car, probably a little later that same 
year that made a strong impression on dad as well, as he recorded in a fragment of his history 
"One of our biggest problems was that of mud every time it rained. I spent many hours of 
backbreaking toil gathering and placing large boulders, with the flat side up, around the house, 
serving as walks and a flagged area. Lawns were planted and gravel was spread to help the 

"A near tragedy occurred in connection with gathering the rocks. One July 24*^ morning 
at daybreak, John, my oldest son, who was about ten years old, went with me to scout for 
additional rocks. I had just purchased a beautiful new Dodge Sedan of which we were very 

"John and I rode up Rock Canyon to a site just below the weir. We were stopped by a 
deep wash about ten feet deep and 20' across. In order to turn around safely I got out of the 
car to check my position. I told John to stay in the car, but fortunately he climbed out, dogging 
my heels. As I looked up the canyon, John grabbed my leg and yelled. I turned just in time to 
see the rear of that beautiful new car, rise, rise, as the front plunged down to the bottom of the 
wash, then turn and come to rest on its side. 

"I can still feel that sick sensation in my stomach as I scrambled down and removed the 
key from the ignition. 

"We hurried home and got Henry up to see what our insurance status was. Fortunately 
we were covered by a reliable company and the car was repaired in first class condition." 


Well, that's the event as my father recalled it. However, I was there too, and though 
only ten, certain details were burned into my mind, and they differ from dad's version in some 

He had gone up Rock Canyon on other occasions to select and bring home large 
reasonably flat stones for the purposes he describes. When he stopped the car it wasn't that 
our course was blocked by the deep wash. Actually, the rough canyon road wound along in the 
same direction. We stopped at a convenient location vacant of scrub oak and other brush. The 
car was, at that point facing somewhat downhill and toward the gulley. Dad stopped the car, 
put it into reverse gear (as he thought), pulled on the emergency brake, and got out of the car 
to look around for some suitable stones. 

It was very early and while light, the sun had not appeared over the high mountains 
behind Rock Canyon, so it was still quite chilly. I just decided to stay in the car. Dad disappeared 
behind some scrub oak some twenty yards or so behind the car. 

I did not touch the gearshift, hand brake, or anything else, just sat there quietly. After a 
few moments I had the feeling that I should get out of the car. I hasten to say that I heard no 
voices, experienced no premonitions. It was not a panic situation at all. It was simply that I 
knew I should get out of the car, and I did. 

I got out and shut the door, and as I did so, the car started moving forward, picking up 
speed, and went right over the edge, with the rear end "rising, rising," as dad says. While I 
could not see him, it is quite possible that he could see the car going into the wash. I do know 
that he heard the smash because the bottom and sides of that gully were filled with jagged 
rocks and boulders. 

Dad came running from behind the scrub oak, his face as white as a sheet. I am 
surprised that dad says the car came to rest on its side, as I have a picture in my mind that the 
four wheels were uppermost. On that point though, his memory may be better than mine. 

Within a few weeks the Dodge reentered our lives in a new guise— this time as a cream 
colored sedan, and it served us well for some years. 

On many occasions in my early life and later I was spared injury or death when in 
perilous circumstances. These events came flooding into mind when I received my Patriarchal 
Blessing in 1948— almost exactly ten years later— and heard these words: "The Lord has seen 
your actions in the past, his eyes have been upon you and he has guided you thus far in your 
life, although you may not have realized that his hand has been your protector and your guide." 

According to mother's biography. Through a Lifetime, "....three years after my third child 
was born, I contracted pneumonia." Lynn Anne, the third child was born in 1935, so mother's 
recollection is that she caught pneumonia in 1938, and it was a very bad case. This was before 
the development of the antibiotics we take for granted today. In an unconscious state she was 
placed in an oxygen tent from November 15 until the first of January 1939, hovering with her 
fate uncertain. Fortunately she recovered. 

While mother was in the hospital we three children (Janice and Lynn Anne) were 
"farmed out," the girls to Grandma Johnson's and me to Grandma Taylor. Aside from concerns 


about mother, I had a wonderful time, as I loved all my Taylor uncles and aunts. Dad must have 
lived at home, but he kept very close to his children, and he was responsible for giving me a 
very happy Christmas. I had long wanted a new bicycle and on Christmas morning there was a 
very large oblong cardboard box waiting for me at Grandma's home. I opened it with great 
excitement and found a gorgeous Schwinn bicycle, with balloon tires and the cross bars filled 
with a metal tank containing a battery-operated horn. Unlike the usual red or blue bikes, this 
one was black and cream which startled me because I'd never seen anything like it, but I soon 
loved it and have ever since favored that color combination. I was so pleased and grateful to 
dad ("Santa"). Even though it was a cold day, with snow on the ground I toured the entire 
neighborhood in high glee! 

I should mention that on other occasions when mother was ill, or "delivering," and dad 
was responsible for feeding us it was apparent that his skills as a cook were very limited. 
Campbell's alphabet soup and burned toast were high on his list of culinary accomplishments. 
He loved burned toast and so do I to this very day. 

Dad was afflicted with what was called in those days, "hay fever," and which was of 
course an allergic reaction to pollen or other air-borne allergens. This was seasonal and he 
really suffered during these bouts that turned into asthmatic attacks. We children all knew that 
at the worst times, he would sit-up most or all of the night in his favorite chair, resting, 
sleeping, reading or trying to. 

Speaking of reading, later on dad subscribed to a monthly book club that specialized in 
so-called "murder mysteries," written by Ellery Queen and other popular writers of the day, and 
he greatly enjoyed relaxing and reading these. In my high school and college days I teased dad 
about his reading this fare, as I knew he was very well read in other literature. Guess what? In 
my later years I have read hundreds, maybe thousands of books of mystery, intrigue, 
adventure, murder, and greatly enjoyed them all. I apologize, dad! 

My father was called to be the Bishop of the Pleasant View Ward at some point during 
World War II, and I remember his diligence in keeping in close touch with the boys in our ward 
that had been drafted, and with their families. While I have no specific memories of his 
performance as bishop I have no doubt that he was effective and greatly beloved by ward 
members, as that was his effect on people. One amusing and inexplicable anecdote survives. A 
youngster in our ward at that time named Rulon Cluff, now grown old like me, and until 
recently dwelling in the Oak Hills Stake, told me that when he was eleven. Bishop Taylor called 
him in and ordained him a deacon. Rulon is most positive about this event. We have no idea 
why this happened, for we know of no precedent for such an ordination short of age twelve. 
Dad must have had a reason but it is lost. 

Dad was drafted into the Army just at the end of World War I, and received some basic 
training at the Presidio in California but was then discharged. A number of boys from Provo had 
a strong alliance and that later resulted in the formation of the Gold Bricker Social Unit on the 
BYU campus. 

For many years Dad was affiliated with the American Legion, a society of veterans, and 
he was proud of his membership. Occasionally he would work on his marksmanship. At least 


once he took me to some kind of firing range in the basement of a Provo building. For many 
years in a bottom drawer of the so-called "chefferobe" in our parent's bedroom, there were 
several clips of 30.06 rifle ammunition, long, sharply pointed wicked-looking bullets. Later 
during the war when ammo was scarce, with dad's permission I traded these clips for some 
30.30 ammunition for a deer hunting expedition. 

Dad also belonged to the Lions Club, a popular civic organization. When I was about 
fourteen he took me to a Fathers & Sons dinner at a country club south of Provo. I don't 
remember anything about the dinner, but after an excellent magician performed and he did 
some really astonishing tricks. I remember that each son was given an Eversharp (brand) pen 
and pencil set that I treasured for a long time. 

At about that age Dad took me to a stake priesthood meeting, probably on a Saturday 
night. I vividly remember one speaker regaling us with the story of some good Mormon athletes 
taken to New York City for some award ceremonies. It seems that each young man was 
provided with a hostess, and in the case in point wine flowed and one boy succumbed to 
temptation. He contracted a sexually transmitted diseases, which was then passed on to the girl 
he later married and to his first child. I shrank back in my seat in the horror of this story and for 
some reason felt great embarrassment, and all the way home hoped with all my might that dad 
would not allude to this story or follow up with his own lecture. To my relief he did not. 

Perhaps I had some small allowance tied to the performance of my chores, such as filling 
the stoker with coal, and taking the clinkers out of the furnace, various yard work assignments 
and so forth, but if I did it was insufficient, so in the summers, like every other kid my age, I 
worked harvesting strawberries, picking cherries, etc., at farms in the mouth of Rock Canyon, or 
more usually out on the Provo Bench (Orem). In the summer of 1941 1 had a short-term job 
working for a farmer with long rows of onions. I was assigned to removing the little weeds from 
among the onions. The rows seemed to be about a mile long, and at the end of the row I'd 
earned one dollar. It was tedious and backbreaking work; I hated it! After a few days of this I'd 
had enough as an "agricultural laborer," and went to my father: "Oh daddy, please get me out 
of the onions!" 

He took me to his older brother, Arthur D., Manager of Dixon Taylor Russell Company, 
who interviewed me and hired me to work in the upholstering shop for a trifling hourly wage. 
I'd have taken any amount. This proved to be a very great blessing to me in so very many ways, 
a story I shall tell some other day, perhaps, and I am profoundly grateful for a father that 
recognized my anguish and indeed took me out of the onions! 

I got my Social Security card at the age of thirteen and worked for DTR every day after 
school and on Saturdays, and all summer. All told I worked for that company for a total of 11 
years, and rose to the magnificent hourly wage of $1.00. Apart from the criminally low "salary" 
(though absolutely typical for the time) it was the best job I ever had! 

I'll mention one fun annual event, the employee Christmas Party. An exciting feature of 
the evening program was when Arthur D. emptied a large sack of brand new silver dollars on a 
big table. In turn each employee was invited to come forth and receive one silver dollar for each 
year of employment. Some long timers took away a weighty stack! 


My interest in advertising and commercial art continued through high school and in 
summer classes at BYU and at the Utah Valley Vocational School (precursor to Utah Valley 
University), and from about the age of seventeen this led to my father's gradually working me 
out of the upholstering shop and into handling all of DTR's show cards, silk screen truck and 
banner production, newspaper ads, etc. 

Dad taught me many hard lessons, including one I shall never forget. It had to do with a 
co-op contract we had with the manufacturer of some line of home furnishings we handled. 
This sort of arrangement was very common at the time; if we ran so many lines of newspaper 
advertising and provided the newspaper proofs to the manufacturer, he would rebate a certain 
amount of the total cost. I was maintaining the files and dad asked me to locate a certain 
contract or document, and I told him it was not in the file. He insisted it was and I insisted it was 
not. He trotted me to the file and found the article he wanted. I was highly embarrassed. Our 
father was a very stubborn and usually accurate person and on this and other occasions I tried 
to learn to be more thorough before painting myself into a corner. 

Dad had a most interesting office at DTR, and I greatly enjoyed visiting with him there 
from time-to-time. There was always evidence of his on-going projects or business. There were 
always his ever present drawing board and T-square, plastic triangles, etc. I'd always meet him 
there after work so we could go home together, except when I had my own transportation. 

One time when he was at market I dropped in to his office to check mail, which at that 
time always came to the store; the Post Office did not deliver mail up on the hill. The telephone 
rang and I answered. On the other end was a very angry woman: "Where is Lynn Taylor?" I 
answered that he was in Chicago, and at that she really blew a fuse. It seems that she had 
engaged him to speak at a gathering of women, and he had agreed. The women were gathered 
and he was not. Somehow he'd not got it on his calendar, and there we were. I made some sort 
of apology, but obviously nothing I was able to say ameliorated the situation in the least 
degree. Hmm, I wonder how dad dealt with that on his return? 

On another note, our father's family and genetic background did not permit him to be 
very demonstrative, at least with his children. I never at any time recall my father telling me 
that he loved me. Yet, I knew he did, and somehow did not expect any verbal evidence. On one 
occasion, at DTR's down in the drapery department, I overheard him talking to someone, I don't 
recall who, and to my surprise heard him tell this person how proud he was of me. I did not let 
on that I heard, for at that point in my life I too was about as demonstrative as a cedar post, but 
it made me very happy to know of his feelings. 

For the most part my father was very reasonable and very easy to work with— up to a 
point. I remember late one summer night I was out with my friends. I think we'd been 
swimming at the Saratoga Resort and were somehow out in the Lehi Area, which then was a 
long way from Provo on old Highway 89. Whosoever car we had broke down and we were 
stranded, and it was late at night but we were not worried and had some plan of action. I 
telephoned dad, woke him up, and the conversation went something like this: "Dad, George 
and Richard and John and I are in Lehi; the car is broken down but we are okay and I probably 
won't be home till morning. Don't worry." His reply: "Okay. Be careful. Thanks for calling." I 
thought: "What a great dad!" I had his trust. 


On another summer evening I was working with him in our "Victory Garden." I got a call 
from a friend urging me to join a group going to Saratoga. George Collard was driving his dad's 
new car with a large group of my classmates. I pled my case to no avail. Dad was intransigent; I 
had to stay with weeding the garden or whatever. I was very cross about this. Later in the night 
I heard to my dismay that George, way out in the boonies had sped down a country road, which 
dead-ended and rolled his car, spilling nine of my classmates out into a pasture. No one was 
killed, but some went to the hospital. I was rather glad I'd not been the tenth person in the carl 

One incident stands out in my mind that is not so flattering to dad, the memory of which 
event still rankles. Beginning at about age 16, with dad's help I was able to buy a succession of 
old cars; such as a 1933 Plymouth, a 1931 Model A Roadster, providing erratic transportation 
(war-time gas-rationing, the shortage of rubber for tires, mechanical breakdowns). I don't recall 
the circumstances, but on this occasion I did not have transportation and wanted to borrow the 
family car, of which we only had one. I had a date with the beauteous Joan Tuttle for a dance at 
the ballroom in BYU's new Joseph Smith Building. Joan lived on Third South in Provo. Dad would 
not agree to let me use the car though I don't think my parents were going to use the car that 
evening. I pled my case to no avail. I could not then, or even now understand why he would not 
let me borrow the car. The upshot was that I had to walk from our home on the hill to Joan's 
home on Third South Street, a distance of more than three miles, then walk back with her to 
BYU's upper campus, dance for a couple of hours, then walk her back to Third South, then I had 
to walk home. All told, not counting time on the dance floor, Tuttle had to walk four miles and I 
had to walk ten! (It was worth it!). 

Dad was a fastidious dresser. Catherine has commented many times on her memory 
that dad took care of his clothes and always looked very neat and trim. He had a friend, Gene 
Hoover, who owned the finest men's clothing store in Provo, and I believe dad purchased all his 
suits there. Hoover's had the best clothing brand names, such as Kuppenheimer suits and 
Florsheim shoes. Later on I purchased some of my clothing there, but seldom the really 
expensive stuff, as I did not have the means. 

When the time came for my mission to The Union of South Africa, Dad took me over to 
Taylor Brothers Department Store, across the street from Dixon Taylor Russell Company, to buy 
a couple of suits, shirts, shoes, and so forth. Taylor's had some good lines, and I got some suits I 
was proud of. He saw to it that I was properly outfitted. 

In those days men wore fedora hats (a soft felt hat with a curved brim and crown 
creased lengthwise). Dad had a few such stylish hats, as did all men of his generation. My 
missionary specs required me to add one to my "accouterment" and I took one with me to 
Africa, but never wore it once, as I recall. 

This is a good place to express my admiration for dad and mother's generosity to me 
while on my mission, though I know their means were limited. I was reasonable frugal, and 
lived within my missionary allowance, but there were times! I needed/wanted a new camera, 
and the funds came. I had an opportunity (as did all the missionaries) to buy a diamond at an 


excellent price. Monies were provided, though I believe mother sacrificed a winter coat. At the 
end of my mission I saw the chance to come home via the east coast of Africa, the Sudan, 
Egypt, Italy, and England. The funds (though not exorbitant) were provided. This was a great 
adventure I hope to record elsewhere some day. I traveled from Liverpool to New York City on 
the famous Queen Mary! 

Dad's love for his canyon home was extraordinary. Taking the long view, the vision he 
had while a young man was developing over many years and came to full fruition by the end of 
his life As reported elsewhere he was instrumental in gathering a group of friends and inducing 
them to purchase property from the Stewart Family so that the "Brickerhaven Country Club" 
could be established. He began to stockpile huge pine beams and other lumber well before he 
began construction of his cabin in 1939. 

Dad was bishop of the Pleasant View Ward when the family of Angus Wall moved to 
Provo from Colonia Dublan, Chihuahua, Mexico in the late thirties. They were impoverished 
members who wanted to locate in our ward. I don't know how it came about but they zeroed in 
on the old Muhlestein home on the bench near the Leichty family. This house had been 
unoccupied and abandoned for many years. It had neither electrical service nor running water. 
Angus was a self-described "rough carpenter," and with the help of Bishop Taylor and other 
ward members and no doubt the Leichty Family, moved into this old home and somehow made 
it habitable. The family consisted of Angus, his wife, and Helena, Roy, Frank, LaMar, John, 
David, and a younger sister, Reva Mae. They were good, solid folk, and the boys were among 
my best friends on the hill. 

In 1939, Dad hired Angus and his boys to build our cabin in Brickerhaven. This was a 
great break for Angus who had no job, and for dad too as it provided him with the help he 
needed at an affordable price. I regret that I have very little memory of this construction, but 
looking at the results show it was a prodigious undertaking. Dad designed the cabin, and it is 
constructed using eight-inch timbers for the beams and posts. How these were lifted into place 
I cannot imagine. Incidentally, In the about 75 years since these pine timbers were sawn they 
have become about an impenetrable as iron. The untold story of the excavation of the site from 
the mountain, the stonework, as well as the construction would have been fascinating, but all 
those who could have told of it are long dead. 

When we moved in that first summer, we were pioneers; no electricity, no inside 
plumbing. We used coal oil, and Coleman (gas) lanterns for light, we had an outhouse at the 
end of a long trail on the hill above the cabin, and we dipped water out of the creek to drink or 
to use in cooking. Shutters were installed over the windows to enclose the cabin in the winter. 
One onerous job was done every summer, wiping down the outside walls of the cabin with 
linseed oil to help preserve the wood. 

As the years went by, dad capped springs, piped water to our cabin, installed a toilet, 
and a rough shower, brought in electricity as other cabins were built, installed a water-heater, 
and gradually increased our comfort level. This little home was not insulated in any way so our 
fireplace was in constant use to provide a little warmth as the early mornings and early 
evenings were chilly, if not cold even in the summer. 


Dad's artistic touches are evident throughout the cabin that he designed from start to 
finish. These are very evident from the rope-hung shelf dividing the main living area, to the very 
nice treatment of the stairway handrails. One of his most impressive achievements was the 
lining of the interior of the cabin, which has not done much in the way of insulation, but greatly 
added to its beauty. How he got this idea I don't know, but he obtained a large quantity of the 
slabs that are sawn off the sides of logs to make them square. He peeled the bark off these to 
reveal the solid wood beneath. Then he spent nearly all of his spare time over several summers 
cutting, trimming, and fitting these slabs in a most attractive chevron pattern over nearly all of 
the vertical walls of the cabin. This represents a prodigious amount of work. The results have 
grown more impressive with the passing years as the slabs have darkened with age and the 
contrast of the wood with the patches of the remaining bark underlayment is very handsome. 
This lengthy project testifies of his dogged determination. 

Dad was immensely strong. I vividly recall many occasions when I would be helping him 
with various projects including lifting big rocks or hoisting five- gallon buckets filled with 
concrete. My arms would be tired beyond belief, but dad would still be soldiering on 
encouraging me to just "hang on for a little longer." 

Several times he pulled me out of the upholstering shop at DTR to work on some project 
in Brickerhaven. Once he needed a pipe installed from a spring across the "flat" or meadow to 
our cabin, and I was to dig the trench. What an unsatisfying job that was! The meadow, under a 
light covering of soil was all rocks. I labored for two weeks on that 200 foot-long trench, and it 
seemed to me at the end that I had a little six inch deep trench and piled all along its length 
were huge rocks. Another time two stone pillars were to be built on each side of the dirt road 
to accommodate a gate blocking the entrance to Brickerhaven. I was to assist Mr. Gibson (a 
rock mason who'd built the fireplace and chimney at our cabin years before). This was a 
revelation to me. We started with a huge pile of big rocks of no particular shape. Mr. Gibson, 
who as I recall had one bad eye, would take a rock in his experienced hand and using some 
arcane magic would put it into place in the pillar, and lo and behold as the sides of the pillar 
grew they would be perfectly vertical! 

Dad burnt up a lot of wood in the cabin's kitchen stove and fireplace and it was a 
constant chore to keep ahead of the need. Fortunately the area surrounding the cabin was 
filled with old dead aspen or pine trees, and with a little effort they could be snaked out and 
brought to a pair of sawhorses and cut into smaller logs and split. It seems like dad was always 
out there sawing or chopping, and of course, he needed help. One time when I was in college 
he hired a kid I knew, Kent Prestwich, and Kent and I cut and sawed up a lot of logs one day. 
Kent went into business as a Kentucky Fried Chicken franchisee, and highly successful, was 
drafted into the KFC corporate structure as executive vice president back in Kentucky. I saw him 
there when I lived in Cincinnati. 

In the many years of our cabin's life, there has been a lot of deterioration: moisture 
seeping through the wall backed into the hill-side, the settling of the foundation, dry-rot, the 
action of carpenter ants, deteriorating mortar in the chimney and the resulting loss of stone, 
the loss of use of the fireplace for various reasons, and a host of other problems. Lynn and 
Celestia's children have spent a great deal of money and effort to keep ahead of entropy, to 


keep this old place going, which is so beloved by them and by their children and grandchildren. 
However, the inevitable day will come when we shall have to shed ourselves of it. Meanwhile, 
we think dad would approve of the many, many changes and improvements we have effected 
in the fabric of the cabin, and the many amenities we have provided that make living up here so 
pleasant. Having said that, I might add that while I am typing this memoir at the cabin I am 
waiting for an operator from Buffo's to come up and provide treatment for carpenter ants 
working in the kitchen ceiling, and for an electrician to deal with the power failure in the east 
end of the cabin. And so it goes! 

In August of 1952 I was drafted into the Army in the height of the Korean Engagement 
and assigned to the Signal Corp. After an eventful, almost two years concluding at SHAPE 
(Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers in Europe) in Paris, France, I was returned home in a 
troop ship and discharged at Camp Carson, Colorado. I don't recall how this came about, but 
dad asked me to fly from Camp Carson to Flint, Michigan, to take delivery of a new Chevrolet 
station wagon he'd purchased from a dealer in Provo. This seemed like an exciting conclusion to 
my two years away from home, and I was most happy with the prospect. The car was a very 
nice one and fully equipped, except that it did not have a radio. In anticipation of this long trip 
west, I encouraged dad to include a radio in his purchase, as I thought it would enhance the 
family's enjoyment of this new car. On this point however he was very firm. I believe it was a 
financial concern. He'd stretched as far as he could, and was not willing or able to invest one 
more dollar, even though the cost of adding a radio was minimal in comparison to the total 

So I picked up the car and it was a beauty, red and cream in color, and sped west. This 
was in the day before our super expressways crossed the continent, and I was driving on a 
succession of country roads and whatever passed for major highways in those days. After being 
under Army control for two years my blessed freedom was liberating, and the prospects of 
returning to school exciting. On the other hand, the trip west occupying several days was very 
tiring in one respect. Driving all that distance without a radio was really difficult. I told myself all 
the stories, I recited all the poetry, I sang all the songs, I told all the jokes, and I recounted all 
my adventures, and all that took care of the//rst hour! What a drag! 

Talking of automobiles takes me back to several other family cars. After the Dodge 
discussed earlier. Dad purchased a 1939 Studebaker Commander from his mother's family. It 
had several refinements that were unusual in that day, including a freewheeling feature, and an 
"overdrive" that in effect added another forward gear. This was our family car throughout the 
days of World War II. After the war dad was prevailed upon (and I had a strong hand in this) to 
buy another Studebaker, this time a 1948 Commander. This was a gorgeous car, and I 
remember how proud I was to take it out to show my friends. There was an unusual event 
involving this car, which had a one thousand mile warranty on the engine. Dad was driving this 
car, I think between Provo and Heber when the engine overheated and burned out at about 
1010 miles! The dealer honored the guarantee and a new engine was installed. Not too many 
years later, after dad acquired the Chevy station wagon, I purchased the Studebaker from him 
at a friendly price and drove it until a few months before leaving for New York to attend 
graduate school, at which time I sold it to my cousin Douglas Dixon. 


I really enjoyed our family's association with Dixon Taylor Russell Company. It was a well 
known and well thought of business in Central Utah (at one time having seven branch stores). 
Frankly, we all felt it gave us a certain status in the community. I really loved working at DTR, 
and loved all I learned there in my "trade" as an upholsterer, and later in working in the store's 
advertising functions. I had a great deal of freedom, and with certain limitations real autonomy 
to come and go at will, and to work the hours most convenient to me. My father was a 
wonderful and understanding boss. In that regard, as I have said, I never had a job I loved more. 

Most people have never understood how and why in the I960's, the Company folded- 
up, liquidated, and went out of business. Nor do I completely. Henry Dixon Taylor, Jr. (Hank) a 
favorite cousin and astute businessman, and I have often discussed this. He observed that in 
business practices the store was au courant, and its operating systems impeccable (except for 
improbably high accounts receivable). Among major contributing factors, it seems to me, was 
that the company could not compete in the new cut-throat age; the store could not survive its 
culture as "The One Price House." Another is that a large number of key employees had grown 
up and aged in the business— from cradle to grave— and when they got to retirement age they 
looked behind and there was no one following. There was no provision at any time to develop a 
successive management structure. Sons who might have been future contributors ran off to 
other careers, or to work for other companies. 

Moreover, working for DTR was not likely to lead to much material wealth. All the sons 
of the principal founder, Arthur Nicholls Taylor, lived on salaries that were modest indeed. Had 
not most of the sons got involved in some ancillary sources of income such as life insurance, 
real estate (e.g. Bonneville Development Corporation) aside from their DTR salaries, their lives 
would have been economically uncomfortable. It is interesting to note that of all the sons, the 
one leaving behind the largest estate was the unmarried Clarence, who probably received the 
lowest salary of all, but whose financial life was a remarkable combination of frugality, and 
sagacious and conservative investment. 

And now I am nearing the end of my recollections of dad. I could write many more 
reminiscences, but where to stop? And I am sure that long after I write the last few words I will 
remember other tender occasions and wish with regret that I'd included them. 

Dad and mother came back to visit us in Cincinnati at least two or three times, once 
when we'd moved into our beautiful new home in Kenwood on Westover Circle. After many 
months of having a living and dining room with plywood floors (our then two sons rode their 
bicycles in mad races round and round) in the house, we'd finally been able to afford to lay 
down a fine carpet called "Rustic Corduroy." We were happy to have dad visit there and consult 
with us about drapery. He was pleased to note that my exposure to drapery installation at DTR 
made me competent to hang the drapes, made for us back in Provo. 

It was very fun for me to take mother and dad to downtown Cincinnati and to take them 
around to show them Procter & Gamble, my favorite eating places and other haunts such as 
Acres of Books, where I acquired so many books over the years. While walking around we were 
hit hard by Cincinnati's famous thunder and a drenching, frog-strangling rainstorm. 


Remembering with nostalgia, trips with dad to the Provo Bench to dig up trees to 
transplant to our yard on the hill (one that became our giant poplar, for example), I got him to 
drive out with me to one of Cincinnati's eastern suburbs) where we dug up— probably a maple 
tree— and brought it back to my yard, and plopped it into a new hole. Later one of our close 
neighbors asked Catherine who that young man was that had been helping me in the yard. Dad 
at 65 or whatever age he was at that time had the slim figure of a boy. Regretfully, the tree did 
not survive the transplant and died, and so did Dad. 

Not too many years later mother and dad made an automobile journey to New York to 
visit Harold and Violet, and of course Cincinnati was one of their stops. On this occasion I was 
able to perceive, with great sorrow that my father was beginning to show his age; his mental 
acuity was, very slightly, not what it had been. My first realization of this was finding that he 
had set forth on this trip without having his car thoroughly checked. I found that his brakes 
were in desperately bad condition. I immediately took him and the car to a shop to have the 
brakes repaired. I don't remember if the brake pads were worn out or whether the hydraulic 
system was shot. Maybe the former, certainly the latter. Perhaps both. I was extremely 
worried when they set off for the next leg of their journey. However, they made the trip to New 
York and back to Provo successfully. 

In 1967, Catherine and I and John and Tom were travelling the 1,700 miles to Utah for 
our summer vacation. We had with us a pure bred female Shetland Sheepdog puppy, "Laddie." 
The puppy seemed to be ill. 

Our pattern was to leave late on Friday afternoon, drive about 300 miles to Des Moines, 
Iowa, drive 1,000 miles to Cheyenne, Wyoming on Saturday, and drive the remaining 400 miles 
to Salt Lake City on Sunday. On this occasion we were staying for the night at Little America. In 
the middle of the night so it seemed we got a call from my ingenious sister Kathryn. How she 
tracked us down I do not know, though I suppose she must have found us by calling Catherine's 
mother, Helen Pearson in Salt Lake City. Kathryn reported that our father had had a heart 
attack and was in the hospital. Now here I must express a profound regret, for I did not 
immediately pack up and leave for Provo, not sensing the immediacy of the situation. Our 
departure was not leisurely, but I believe we got some breakfast and set forth as fast as we 
thought reasonable. We reached Provo too late to be with dad before he died. The thought of 
this makes me very sad to this day. 

Lynn Dixon Taylor's viewing at the Berg Mortuary was astonishment, as I never 
remember seeing so many people. Dad was extremely well known and liked. He had a myriad of 
relatives and friends. His funeral was very appropriate and very touching. Everyone in the 
family should read Ralph "Buddy" Keeler's tribute: "In Memory of Lynn D. Taylor," for an 
intimate review of dad's life. Keeler was his close and lifelong friend. 

This funeral week was a tragic one for us. Not only did I lose my father with whom I had 
hoped to grow even closer in our later years, but also my dear Aunt Alta (Henry D. Taylor's wife) 
died the day of dad' funeral. Also our puppy had to be put to sleep having been diagnosed with 
some form of canine meningitis. 


In wrapping up this memoir I want to mention "communications" During my dad's 
lifetime telegrams were pretty much the mode for delivering bad news. Long distance 
telephone calls were expensive, and reserved for unusual and special occasions. Letters and 
postcards were de rigueur for family communications. For the most part Mothers wrote letters 
and postcards to children, fathers typically wrote once a year or when there was a very unusual 
situation. What I am trying to say is that dad wrote a postcard if he was on a trip to market, or if 
mother had a broken arm, and so forth. It was not often I had a letter from dad. Mother would 
keep us posted on dad's doings, or relay messages from him when necessary. 

Over the last 19 years of dad's life, I was on my mission for two years, in the Army for 
the better part of two years, and away at graduate school or working for P&G for 12 years. 
Summer vacations were precious and I highly valued the time I got to spend with dad. Who can 
forget the summer up the canyon, when in one week together we made six, six quart batches of 

homemade freezer pineapple ice cream and there were plenty of family members about to 

partake of it! 

I contrast this limited exposure to that with my sons, John Jr., Tom, and David. With the 
advent of the Internet and the development of email, there is hardly a day when messages are 
not sent among the four of us. Typically when one sends a message, it goes to all four of us. 
We all feel highly involved in one another's lives, and I know in detail what my sons are thinking 
and doing, and they know the same of me. It is difficult to maintain an austere or dignified 
demeanor when one's foibles are constantly on display. So I have gladly sacrificed dignity for 
intimacy. It's a worthwhile tradeoff. 

Meanwhile, I think of my father often, with love and affection, and look forward to 
another place, when perhaps as equals, we shall have a time to get to know one another better. 
There is a scripture covering this: ''And it shall come to pass, when thy days be expired that thou 
must go to be with thy fathers.../' (I Chronicles 17:11). Perhaps at that time I can ask his 
forgiveness for my youthful follies. ..and he can tell me why he would not let me borrow the car! 

iohn Arthur Taylor 
Julyl, 2010 
Brickerhaven & Provo 



Janice Taylor DeGraw 

I was the second child of Lynn Dixon Taylor, who was the second child of his family, and 
of Celestia Johnson Taylor, who was the second child of her family. If this has any significance I 
don't know, but it just struck me that this is so and it impressed me as I have heard rumors that 
the second child in a family is often the most difficult. Maybe this could explain why, during 
periods of my life, I had conflicts with Dad. Also, my being the oldest daughter in the family 
could have had some bearing on our difficulties. I think Dad felt a strong responsibility for his 
first daughter and was often harder on me than on John or the younger members of the family. 
Maybe I paved the way for the others. 

Dad could be very stubborn and I was always in awe of authority. I remember what a 
struggle it was for me to get to take the car and do many things I wanted to do. Dad, having 
lived through the depression years, was very frugal. I remember asking him if I could have a 
second pair of shoes and he told me I had one perfectly good pair and that was all I needed. 
That was when I decided I'd better get a job if I was to have some of the things I felt I needed. 

I do have a recollection of a loving Father. When I was very small I remember sitting on 
his lap. Dad loved being at home and some of the pleasantest evenings I can recall were sitting 
together in front of a crackling fire, everyone with a book and a nice, crisp apple or a dish of 
peanuts and raisins. We learned very early to appreciate good music as Dad and Mother had a 
good collection of classical records. Art was important in our family also as Dad was a talented 

We used to all climb in our car after Sunday School and go for a ride. Dad took us on all 
the beautiful scenic rides there were, up into the mountains, around the lake, to see the leaves 
in Autumn. I well remember going to Duchesne gathering pine nuts a few times. We would 
drive along enjoying the scenery and listening to beautiful music on the car radio. We 
continued this, until about my tenth year when Dad built a cabin up Provo Canyon, a little 
below Aspen Grove. 

About the time I was a year old. Dad and Uncle Henry decided to build on the foothills 
above Provo. Everyone told them that they were out of their minds for moving way out in the 
"sticks." The nearest neighbor was a farmer and his family, Ephraim Lietchty. The Lietchty's 
lived on another hill directly above us. The Wasatch Fault ran between the two houses and was 
known to us as the "hollow." The town of Provo was about three and one-half miles from our 
home. The "hill" was a wonderful place for us to grow up. We had freedom known to very few. 
We all acquired a deep appreciation for nature. We had a gorgeous view of the valley and Utah 
Lake from one window, a spectacular view of Timpanogos Mountain from another, and from 
the kitchen could see Rock Canyon and Squaw Peak. Dad had our home built from materials 
salvaged from a lakeside resort that used to belong to his father. When we first moved to 
"Taylor's Hill", it looked like nothing more than a huge rock pile. Ephraim Lietchty told Dad that 
was where he dumped his rocks from his fields. There were absolutely no trees. There were a 
few beautiful oak bushes and the wild flowers abounding made up for the lack of trees to us. 


Dad planted many box elders, poplars and a weeping willow around the house. Our growing 
family grew with the trees and used them for climbing, swinging and other games, until in 1966, 
Dad had to cut the poplar down as it was in danger of falling on the house. It had reached an 
immense size. The weeping willow was taken down some years earlier. Also in 1966 some of 
the elms were taken. We, children were at home for Christmas at the time, stood around and 
mourned the loss of our old "friends." 

Winter was a wonderful time for us. The hills were perfect for sleigh riding. The road 
that ran around our house and down the hill couldn't have been better for getting up speed. 
Sometimes we would keep going almost to town. Often we would coincide our ride with Dad's 
arrival home, so he could bring us up the hill and save the walk. 

I used to complain a lot about stomach aches. Dad thought they were an excuse to miss 
school, but I showed him different. Dad was home for lunch listening to Arthur Gaeth or a 
baseball game on the radio and I was in real pain, doubled up. Dad didn't think it was much, but 
Mother insisted on calling the doctor. He came, then called another doctor who also came 
(doctors came to your house in those days) and they rushed me immediately to the hospital 
where I had my appendix removed. Dad watched the operation and said I had so many 
adhesions that they could hardly get to my appendix. These had been what had been causing 
my stomach aches. 

Dad didn't write many letter to me. Mother always did the writing, but I treasure the 
few things I got from him. He sent me a post card from the Chicago World's Fair. I was only 
four years old. 

June 21, 1935 -Dear Honey Janice, 

We miss you an awfully lot. Daddy saw a little curly haired Negro girl in Kansas city, 
taking a swim and it reminded him of you. We'll tell you all about it when we get home. We 
are having a grand time but miss you kids like the dickens. Love and kisses. Mother and 

Because of living so far away, we learned to be prompt. Dad would tell us he would pick 
us up at a certain place in town. We found if we were a minute late we would walk home. I am 
always so prompt as a result of this, that I'm usually the first one any place I go. 

Dad and his brothers owned and managed Dixon Taylor Russell Company, which had its 
main store in Provo and seven others throughout the state. Dad handles the advertising for the 
stores and was also an interior decorator for them. Dixon Taylor Russell, besides earning us a 
living, played a big part in all of our lives. It was practically a second home. We often spent an 
hour or two waiting there for Dad to take us home when he got off work at 6 p.m. All of us had 
our turn working there also. We were as familiar with the Drapery Departments, the Linoleum 
Department, Upholstering Department, Appliance Department, sewing Department and so 
forth as with our own home. Whenever there was a parade in town all of the Taylor clan 
gathered on the second floor and watched from the windows all along the front of the building. 


I remember one time when I was recovering from an illness, I was working in the credit 
department. I had a very weird, uneasy feeling come over me. I went to Dad's office and he 
helped me to work out of it. 

When I was in high school, each afternoon after school, I would go over to DTR's where I 
worked. I took dictation in the Credit Department, and called people who had overdue bills. I 
also ran the switchboard. I continued this work all through high school and college until my 
marriage. Being a family store, the wages were terrible, 25 cents an hour, but Dad kept telling 
me to look at the good experience I was getting. 

At Brigham Young University, I enjoyed the lyceums and programs. This Interest came 
from early youth, as Dad and Mother used to take me with them to the tabernacle in Provo to 
many of the programs there and I learned to love them. 

In college, I followed on with my interests in speech and journalism. I really couldn't 
pursue them as much as I would have liked because I had to go to work each afternoon at DTR's 
as soon as I was through with class work and this didn't leave any time for participation in plays 
or on the newspaper staff. I often envied the girls who could attend mat dances or pep club 
rehearsals after school as I hurried off to work. I realized later that if I had been more 
determined with Dad, I could have done those things. Lynn Anne pointedly said, "If I have to 
work and not participate in what I want, I won't go to college." Of course, she didn't have to 

Mother wrote me letter while I was at Grand Canyon working. 

Quote: "Sometimes I have felt that Daddy and I have not been able to help you as much 
as we would have liked and have left you to make your own way financially. I do know that this 
experience has been good for you and will prove of great value to you all your life but still there 
have been many times when I would have loved to buy you things or have it so that you would 
not need to work so hard while you were in school. I'm afraid some others in our family will not 
be quite as capable or willing although there is no one of our children who would not do their 
share when necessary." 

Dad seemed to relax with me after I married. I guess he didn't feel so responsible any 
more for me. He was wonderful to help me choose announcements and other details. He said, 
"It would be much simpler if the other two girls were to elope." He wrote and presented a talk 
to one of their groups as the father of the bride. 




Lynn D. Taylor 

Due to the state of nervous collapse I've been suffering the past few days, I've tried to 
jot down some of the wanderings of a disordered mind and report them to you tonight --I'll 
have to read them or you'll never guess what it's all about. 

As the recent "Father of a Bride," I feel almost as bad about this marriage business as 
the colored gal who was going thru labor pains at the hospital and who -after a very severe 
spasm ~ called the nurse and said, "Look out the window and see if there's a colored boy sitting 
on the lawn." The nurse looked and sure enough he was there. "Will you please run out and 
tell him our engagement is Pos-i-tively terminated." 

For the past three weeks now I've been experiencing the joys involved in getting my first 
daughter married off. I'm convinced that the merits of so-called "shot-gun" weddings are 
grossly underestimated. I can demonstrate the state of my mental deterioration by telling you 
that Phyllis (Allen) called me Tuesday, two days before the wedding and asked me to make 
these remarks ~ and it wasn't until the next day that I realized I had let her get away with it. 

And yesterday morning we got up at 5 o'clock to plow through the smog to get to the 
Salt Lake Temple by 8 o'clock. We stood in line to get Names and after I'd worked my way up to 
the desk, the sister said, "Brother You're in the wrong line -this is for ladies only." 

For a month now I've been the forgotten man around our place. Even Rusty our friendly 
female dog shuns me. The only time my women folks think of me is when it is time to pick up 
the check. Someone truly remarked that "marriage is an ocean of emotion surrounded by an 
Expanse of Expense." The girls get the emotion and father gets the expense." 

Someone else said that marriage teaches a man the virtues of Constancy, Regularity, 
Thrift, Sobriety ~ and many others he wouldn't need if he stayed single. 

I try to think back to the time when Cess and I were married. It's awfully hard because I 
was numb for weeks before and after the ceremony. It seems to me that Cess didn't get half 
the kick out of it she's getting out of our daughter's wedding. In fact one would think this was 
her wedding rather than Janice's. She has dragged in every 'alleged' propriety that the bride 
should do~than the Mother of the bride, the groom, the bridesmaids, the parents of the 
groom, the best man, the ushers, the flower girls, and on and on to nauseating infinity ~ oh yes, 
the Father of the bride is also to be present to take care of any minor expenses that might 

And this after I've reached an age of discretion when I've begun to wonder if sin is worth 
what it costs. 

I think our little daughter, Kathryn, had the idea when her mother was reading to her 
and came across the expression "Blood, Sweat and Tears." "Do you know what that means?" 
she asked Kathy who promptly replied ~ "Yes sure, it's from the marriage rites isn't it?" 


Well, they tell me our wedding is over and that I can now settle back down into my rut 
of comfortable obscurity. But, how can I do that with every mail bringing me in bills -and bills- 
and bills! - And that's not all --my wife just told me about Santa Claus. Oh. Me! 

Without further prolonging my lament — One last word to you proud but vulnerable 
fathers of daughters -When you see that glint in her eye -and you'll recognize it -just get her 
and the chosen boy-friend in a corner when her mother's not around -and give them your 
blessing, a comfortable check and first class tickets to Europe -Yep, -Even pay for the marriage 
license -but get them on their way before Mother gets into the act! It'll really pay dividends. 


Dad came into our room before Monte and I left for Memphis and told us that we were 
to feel that this was our home and we were welcome here anytime we wished to come. We 
really appreciated that. We took advantage of it too, as we spent many summers later on 

He wrote us a letter again stressing this attitude: 

Sept 7, 1965 

Dear Janice: 

I was nonplussed to find your note on my desk and my first impulse was to return the 
money immediately. After debating the question with your mother I suppose I'll have to follow 
her orders. 

I want you to know that you, Monte and the kids are our family as much as your mother, 
I or any of our other kids are, and we don't want you to think you have to pay for anything you 
get around here. 

This is your home and we want you to so consider it at any time. We enjoyed your family 
so much and want you to come and stay with us as long and often as you are able, with no 
strings attached. 

We hope you had a pleasant trip home. We all stayed at the airport until your plane was 
airborne. Please give our love to all (my personal regards to the "Oiseau") and take care of 
yourselves. We hope to see you soon. 

Love, Dad 

When I was ten. Dad built a cabin up in Brickerhaven. He had belonged to the Bricker 
Social Unit at BYU and the charter members of the unit purchased this land and called it 
"Brickerhaven." Dad, being the pioneer that he was, built the first cabin up there. Our 
summers were from then on spent there. It was a peaceful, secluded spot with an ice cold 
creek running at the side of the cabin. It was so completely surrounded by pines and aspen's 
that it couldn't be seen from the road. There was a beautiful waterfall about two miles up the 


canyon and we often hiked up to it. Every summer Dad hil<ed up to the waterfall and then over 
the mountain to Aspen Grove and down the canyon to the cabin again with us. 

Christmas was extra special around our house. We always go at least one special present. On 
my 18th birthday, I received beautiful Elgin watch. This was a tradition in the family stemming 
back to Dad's youth, when his own parents gave their children a watch on their 18th birthdays. 
Another year I got a Lane Cedar Chest. I also remember a beautiful doll for my bed that Dad got 
for me at DTR. 

New years Day was a very special day for Dad and Mother. They invited their best 
friends in, often 30 in number, to spend the whole day. They came for breakfast and stayed, 
playing games, watching TV, or before TV, listening to games on the radio and then had dinner. 
Mother told me that the New Year before Dad died the almost decided not to have their annual 
party, but it meant so much to them they went ahead with it. Mother was so glad they did as it 
was the last one they could have. 

Another very special day for Dad and Mother was the Fourth of July. The entire Lynn D. 
Taylor Family, plus many of Mother's family would get together at the cabin after the parade in 
Provo and had a scrumptious lunch - Mother's baked beans, turkey, potato salad. Mother's 
homemade pineapple ice cream and much, much more. Dad died on the Second of July, 1967. 
Mother went ahead and had the family up the canyon on the Fourth of July as per tradition. 
(Even before his funeral) She said Dad would have wanted that. It was so important to her and 
we continue to try to carry on the tradition to this day. 

I was baptized on March 26, 1939 by Uncle Henry D. Taylor and confirmed on April 2, 
1939 by my father, who was bishop of our ward - Pleasant View Ward at the time. Dad was 
bishop when I graduated from Primary also. I have heard many people say what a wonderful 
bishop Dad was. He was Ward Clerk for many years also. I remember Dad as being a person 
who did not seek for position. He loved to be at home. 

We always had pets around. Dad had a great dislike for cats because of an experience 
with one when he was younger, and also because they killed the birds, so we had very few cats 
around. We did have a couple though as Lynn Anne was always bringing home a stray cat she 
would find on the way home from school. We had several dogs, Jerry, Gypsy, Jip, Poogie, 
Skippy and Rusty. I named most of my pets and dolls, Mary or Ann, as these two names were 
favorites of mine. When Dad and Mother were going to name Lynn Anne just Lynn, I suggested 
Lynn Anne. Uncle Henry and Uncle Bud called me Mary Janice all of the time. Dad called me 

When I was in high school, I was introduced to a boy from Lincoln High school by a 
friend of John's. That began a series of dates I had with him. He had a reputation that was not 
too good, and Dad heard about it and forbade me to date him again. This was the only boy Dad 
ever objected to in my dating history. This boy had always behaved himself very correctly 
whenever we were together, which let me to believe that fellows treat girls the way they wish 
to be treated. After Dad's ultimatum, I began to refuse to go with him. 

During the summer of 1947, 1 took a bus to Los Angeles and helped with Aunt Maurine 
and Uncle Kent when they had Wendy. Toward the end of the summer I took a bus up to San 


Francisco to meet Dad and Mother who had come there on a business trip. Aunt Ethel and 
Uncle Elton were also there. Mother, Dad and I were supposed to have a hotel room to 
ourselves, but a mistake had been made and we had to sleep in a suite with a few other men 
from DTR's. Mother and I slept on the floor in the kitchen. It was really unfortunate as Mother 
had a miscarriage while we were there in the night and the poor woman hardly had any privacy 
at all. Luckily, Uncle Fred Kartchner was also in San Francisco at the time and came to check on 
her. He felt she was well enough to continue on our trip. 

Also while in San Francisco, Dad took me with him and a business contract to dinner at a 
swank restaurant. They told me I could order anything I wanted, so I decided to try something 
exotic, new to me and expensive. I ordered Lobster Newburg, which I later found out I didn't 
like at all. I ate it though without a word, because I didn't want the others to know how foolish 
and ungrateful I felt. 

Then Mother, Dad and I started our trip back. We went down the coast on Highway I, 
which is absolutely beautiful. We stopped at the redwood forest and even Mother walked 
along the shadowed aisles with us. We stayed overnight at a lovely little cottage in Monterey. 
I remember waking up in the morning to the song of birds and a brilliant sunshine and thinking 
what a heavenly place that was. We went along the seven mile drive in Carmel and over to San 
Luis Obispo and through the mission there. Dad always was fun to travel with as he knew so 
much about everything and every place. He told us about the Hearst castle and pointed out the 
location to us. This was while it was still being lived in. 

We spent a few days with Kent and Maurine in Los Angeles and then headed back to 
Utah. On the way we stopped to look at Bryce and Zion's canyons. This was a trip I shall never 
forget. I really felt special being the only child in the family along with Mother and Dad and it 
was a memorable trip to me. Dad never minded taking detours to see interesting things. 

Following is the last letter Dad wrote to me two months before his death: 

May 13, 1967 

Dear Family, 

First of all let me thank you for the lovely and useful birthday present. It was very 
thoughtful of you and I certainly appreciate the love behind it. However you shouldn't go to so 
much expense. As a matter of fact I am not having birthdays any more so please remember this 
for the future. (How ironic - Janice's comment) 

We surely hope you are all recovered from you various maladies and that things are 
running smoothly for you. We are still in the grip of winter with a heavy snowstorm yesterday. 
Many of the students, especially the Californians, are wailing about the weather. No doubt 
summer will come with a bang as soon as this storm clears up. 

We went to the temple Tuesday and next to me in the line was your friend. Bill Crawford, 
We didn't get a chance to visit much but he seems to be doing ok. 


Terry has a part time job at J. C. Penney's selling shoes. We don't know just how it's 
going to work out but it has future possibilities while he is getting through school. 

Your plans for the summer in Indiana sound interesting. Hope Monte can get what he 
wants there. We hope you can spend a little time, coming or going or both, with us. We would 
surely love to see you all again as soon as possible. 

We are up to our ears in school with final exams scheduled for this coming week. Cess 
had her foreign students up for a little party last night, with afire in the grate and her usual 
super refreshments. They had a good time. 

Love to you all, Dad 




Lynn Anne Taylor Richards 

I am very privileged to be named after my Father. He has always been a strong 
influence in my life. He was a man for all seasons. He was an originator who stepped out as 
our pioneer ancestors of old to develop the country, design buildings, open land development 
and encourage others to follow him. He befriended not only those of his equal education and 
social standing in the community, but the "blue collar" workers who loved and respected him. 
He was a friend to everyone he met. He was affectionately called "Sunbeam" because of his 
bright red hair and also his happy disposition. 

Unfortunately his children did not always see this side of his nature. He felt very 
strongly that his children should be brought up to learn how to work hard and be responsible 
individuals. As a small child I often felt intimated by him. As the years passed I learned that he 
was a wonderful father and loved his children dearly and wanted the best experiences for each 
of us. 

Above all else I knew that he loved my Mother. As he left our home or returned. 
Mother was always at the door to greet him with a kiss and a happy smile. She always looked 
her best and prepared his favorite meals. He appreciated her efforts. It was obvious that the 
two of them lived for each other. They held hands and were very affectionate with one 
another. They shared a love for music, the classics, sports, nature and a strong belief in the 
Gospel. They took great delight in creating a home environment that was artistically decorated 
and comfortable. Many hours were spent by the family in front of fire places, on the hill as well 
as in our Brickerhaven cabin. 

Often on Sunday evenings we would put potatoes in the hot coals and when baked 
through we would split them open and eat them with melted butter and sprinkled with salt— 
what a treat! Just being together made a happy experience for all of us. Dad always had a 
good book in hand or a cabin project going. He was never idle. I watched him peel the bark off 
cross cut logs to line the cabin walls. Early mornings as waited for Uncle Henry to give us a ride 
to work and school my Father would pick up a hoe and clean the driveway of weeds. He was an 
excellent artist and painted some water color pictures in his younger years. 

Even though my Father worked six days a week at Dixon Taylor Russell Company, He 
always was home for a 6:00 p.m. family dinner. We would sit in the end of the kitchen around a 
turquoise painted table in an alcove surrounded with small paned windows. It was a special 
time to gather as a family. As the years passed Dad remodeled the house and a more formal 
dining room was added. We spent happy hours surrounding that table. There was stimulating 
conversation between Mother and Father. Both were very strong minded people and did not 
hesitate to voice their opinions to one another. Occasionally they did not agree and the 
conversation could become quite heated. Never did we feel intimidated or worried about their 
love and respect for one another. Our home was a very stimulating place to be. 


Father believed strongly that his children should be obedient and learn to work hard. In 
the summer we were expected to pick fruit and earn money. As we grew older we were given 
the opportunity to work at DTR. We were expected to pay for our education and graduate from 
the university. ..which each one of us did. 

Here were times when we would ask our Father for permission to do something. He 
would be very quick to tell us "no". He refused to discuss the subject any further. These were 
the times we would go to Mother hoping that she could intercede for us. Very seldom did it 
work. Once Father decided on something it was difficult to get him to change his mind. 

When I began Junior High School, I felt that it was time for me to take off my long brown 
stockings and to grow up and look like the other girls in my class. I remember night after night I 
would plead with my Father to let me cut my long braids off and cut my bangs. He would not 
relent. It was heart breaking to me and I could not understand why he would not give me 
permission. Christmas morning came and in the toe of my Christmas stocking I found a note 
which said, "Dear Lynn Anne, tomorrow you may go to the barber and get your hair cut. Love, 
Santa". I still have that note and it is one of the greatest Christmas gifts I have ever received. 

Sometimes I was happily surprised at his response to some of my problems. In high 
school I was taking an algebra class. On my report card I had a "D" I was very hesitant to show 
it to my Father. He looked at my grades and smiled and said, "Well, Andy, it looks like you take 
after me in Math." Many times he tried to help me with math, but it did not work. 

My Father was not a person to seek attention. He enjoyed being obedient, quietly 
adding to his education and knowledge, strengthening his testimony by participating in all 
Church assignments and perfecting his life. I remember each Sunday he would bring the tithing 
home. I was always fascinated by all the coins he would stack up and count. I knew my Father 
was an honorable man and loved to serve the Lord and the people of our ward. I never heard 
him complain or criticize anyone. 

He loved moving us all up the canyon each spring. Even though he worked long hours 
and could only be with us in the evenings and on Sundays, as long as Mother was in the canyon, 
he was happy. I remember the long walks we would take to the falls and Aspen Grove. Many 
evenings we would walk up the road past Keeler's cabin. My Father loved the canyon. As I 
think of him now I picture him at home in our cabin by the creek. One of the last memories we 
have of Dad was on a wintery day when he took Bryan and me on snow shoes into 

I was always proud of my Father. He had excellent taste in his clothing and he was 
always very careful to cut back on his diet when he felt he needed to. He was very polite to my 
friends and made them feel welcome in our home. I was amazed at his response to Bryan. 
They immediately became friends and had much in common. It was almost like they had 
known each other before. 

After I was married I noticed a decided change in my Father's attitude toward me. I 
believe he no longer felt he had to be a disciplinarian. I was no longer his responsibility. We 
became good friends. 


In 1967, our daughter Heidi was born. I could not take her home from the Provo 
Hospital to Salt Lake because three of our children had measles. Bryan stayed at home with 
them while I took Heidi to Mother's and Father's house. It was a special few days to spend with 
them. Dad was especially responsive to Heidi. That was the last few days I spent with him 
before his heart attack. 

I am so grateful for my Father and the heritage he has left us. Every time we go to the 
canyon and stay in our family cabin I think of his inspired vision into the future in building this 
beautiful mountain home and the lovely home on the hill where we grew up in such peace and 
security. What a meaningful legacy he has left his children. We all have an awareness and 
appreciation for constant improvement and enjoyment of the gifts and blessings of this life. 

I look forward to life together forever with my family in our Heavenly Father's Kingdom. 
I am sure it has to look like Brickerhaven or Dad would not be there. 




George Terry Taylor 

Our father, our grandfather, Lynn Dixon Taylor is an unusual man. Born of goodly 
parents, of real pioneer stock, he bridged the older days with a new, more modern day. He 
came from a strain of faithful early members of the Church. He helped integrate and adapt an 
early Provo business and provincial farming culture with a new more cosmopolitan educational 
culture. His life is a continuing, living legacy. 

Dad worked at the store, Dixon Taylor Russell Company, six days a week--which included 
all day on Saturday. I remember him as being diligent in working right up to 6:00 p.m. each day. 
Yet, I learned from Dad the value and importance of a good lunch, a good book, and a good nap 
each day. He would drive all the way home at noon to fix some soup and a sandwich, read from 
one of his Perry Mason or other detective novels and then have a nap, returning to work about 
1:30. Remember, "a day without a nap, is a day wasted!" Dad never said that, but I think he 
was a good example of it. 

I never knew my father to willingly stand up in public to speak. I never heard him stand 
in a testimony meeting or to preach to others. Mother said that he came home from church 
one day with an ashen face and a disturbed demeanor. "The worst thing has happened; they've 
made me a bishop!" Yet, when called on. Dad expressed himself with humor and with 

We may not all know, that he was gifted at writing his thoughts and feelings. His book 
of early letters to Celestia in his courting days is a treasure. He wrote other pieces, including 
"Our Home on the Hill" which is a well-crafted word-piece and which is now a valuable family 
document. You must read his knock-me-down-with laughter piece entitled, "Father of the 
Bride," written for Janice and Monte's wedding. 

I have two particular little letters from him~one, at my age 17 when he drove me down 
to Bryce Canyon and left me all alone to work "out my summer salvation," in a menial 
dishwashing job which he referred to as "pearl-diving." Such poignant feelings of home 
sickness I had never felt. His little lines were a great comfort. The second was a similar short 
statement of encouragement while I served as a young missionary. I treasure his short lines of 
sentiment and support in his admirable, even beautiful printing style, a distinctive display of his 
clear and simple spirit and character. 

Dad must be considered as a "man for all seasons." He was first, a pioneer. He formed 
the Brickerhaven social club. He arranged purchase of the Brickerhaven property. He formed 
the Brickerhaven Corporation~a unique haven in a complicated world. I remember him cutting 
and planning each of the panels on our Brickerhaven cabin. He designed some of its furniture 
and furnishings. He loved this spot on the earth. Yet, he and Mother always came down on 
Sundays to attend to all of their church duties and meetings. 


Dad built his home on the hill--forglng a new neighborhood-building roads, a water 
system, working over the years with community leaders. Some people thought he was crazy to 
move out of town, away up on the hill. But he had vision! When talking with farmer Liechty, 
who owned the property up on the hill. Dad remarked at what a beautiful view of the valley he 
saw. The farmer scratched his chin and then said something like, "Well, yes! It is beautiful, isn't 
it! I never quite noticed it like that before. 

Both he and Mother valued education. They took advantage of the educational 
opportunities afforded. Dad went to school in the east to learn the arts of interior decoration 
and design. He loved all good home related things: fabrics, carpeting, lighting, wall papers, 
draperies. He loved colors and contrasts. He appreciated his involvement with the Brigham 
Young University Art department and enjoyed teaching the students. The DTR Co. was a 
perfect laboratory for his students and a related business career for himself. 

His creative and artistic influence in the homes of prominent people of the community 
was significant. While our small while shingled home on the hill was modest-built during the 
depression out of Utah Lake boathouse boards-it was a gathering place for the elite and upper- 
crust persons from the University and City. No one could ever quite put a finger on what it was 
in Dad and Mother's homes that were so warm and inviting, but I have frequently heard people 
remark on the decor and ambiance they experience in entering the home-world of Lynn and 
Celestia Taylor 

Dad loved good art, the classics and modern design. He was eclectic in his selections 
from all of the good and beautiful things of life. He enjoyed good music and had a large 
selection of classics. He and Mother belonged to the Silver Slipper, a dinner-dancing club. His 
library was comparatively diverse and broad. He and Mother would attend the Lyceums, the 
concerts, even the ballet. They visited art museums together. They had works of art, books of 
art, pieces of art. I guess one of the signs and signals of a civilized man is the refinement and 
care of his surroundings. To me, we five children were raised in a refined, beautiful heaven-on- 
earth home where we were taught to value and enjoy the best of the world's products-all 
without spending too much money with too much extravagance. 

Dad was an historian. He was particularly interested in Utah history. He read the 
historical journals. He was keenly interested in the west. Among his friends was the great Utah 
rancher, Charles Redd and his wife Anna Lee. Mom and Dad loved visiting places in Monticello 
several times. 

Dad loved athletics. In college, he wrestled. He had a strong body and an even stronger 
spirit. We are told that he and his brother Elton would often fight and quarrel-even be at each 
other's throats most of the time. Mother Maria had often to send them out of the house. I 
remember Uncle Elton saying that he could never beat Dad in a wrestle (Elton was bigger and 
heavier than Dad) except when he could somehow get in a position of sitting on top of him. I 
remember at age 18, thinking how strong and buff I was. Somehow, I got into a wrestle with 
Dad who was now over 60 years of age. He took me down and pinned me to the floor with 
little effort. I was astonished at how strong he seemed even at that age. 


Dad loved tennis and played often as a young man for BYU. Later, he participated in all 
of the spectator sports. I remember driving with him up to the U of U to watch a track meet. 
He frequently supported the BYU baseball games, wrestling matches, track and field activities 
and of course, basketball and football. He would arrive early for the freshmen basketball game 
at the old Smith Field house, buy himself and me a "cougar-eat" hamburger along with an apple 
and watch the game. Mother would catch a ride later with one of the neighbors to join him. 
They were always together at all of the games. He didn't yell much, but he knew all of the 
players and kept all of the statistics. When the team was on the road, Dad was on the radio! 

As a young man. Dad's bright red hair--more rust than carrot-top, was prominent among 
all of his friends. They called him, "Sunbeam" throughout his school days~l think first for his 
bright red-radiant appearance, but also for his genial and outgoing personality. But, along with 
his red hair, came a strong Taylor determination. He was a disciplinarian to his family. He was 
of that earlier school that the father was to establish rules, apply discipline and enforce 
consequences or even punishment where necessary. 

He had an indomitable will power among his family members. He was determined that 
his children were to learn habits of hard work and independence. Janice tells of experiences 
where she and the other kids were to be at a certain place and a certain time after school for 
their ride home. If they were not there at the exact time, they would find themselves walking 
home. And they did. He required his children to be on time and on the task required. Atone 
time, Lynn Ann, in 6th grade, wanted to have her hair cut so she could wear bangs, not to have 
to wear braids and to be in style with all of the other girls. Dad said, NO! There was no debate, 
no discussion. It would simply not be allowed. Sometime later, at Christmas time, Lynn Anne 
found in her stocking a note from Dad which said she could go and cut her hair. It was one of 
the greatest gifts Lynn Ann ever had for Christmas. 

Dad was able to meet and mingle with people from all fashions and facets of life. He 
was one with the laborer and worker in the DTR shop, or with the college professor or dean. 
None of us children will forget the traditional New Year's Day activity. Among Dad and Mom's 
closest friends were some of the highest ranking leaders of BYU, a prominent banker, 
distinguished architect, a nationally recognized psychologist, a respected historian~the list goes 
on and on. Our family can never forget the remarkable outpouring of love from so many 
members of the community. We were astounded by the friends and associates who came in an 
endless line to Dad's viewing and funeral. The expressions of personal friendship and close 
relationships came almost as a shock to us. In looking over again the guest book, I was amazed 
at the diverse and complete strata of society that came trudging, then standing, then waiting 
through the long line. The young people, the elderly, the middle aged, the common, the 
laborers, the average. The high and the mighty-they all came through as one common folk 
with one common phrase --"We'll miss him!" Janice recalls a plumber telling her that her dad 
was his best friend. 

Dad mellowed over the years. As the Father of the Bride, he met Monte DeGraw, a 
splendid artist, a wonderful husband to his first daughter, an excellent daughter. He had his 
first grand-daughter, Michele, one who renewed our recollections of many of the Nash traits to 
the family. His relationship to Dirk is a family treasure. Grandpa Lynn and Dirk~how many 


stories could we share about that special relationship? He met Bryan Richards-truiy a soul- 
friend. They immediately had a mutual respect and common affection for each other. Athletics 
took a new and more important part of Dad's life. Dad had, in a very real way, new wonderful 
sons. He met Catherine Pearson. I remember his very strong positive impressions of this 
beautiful young woman entering into our family's life. He was proud of his growing family. 
"Uncle" Brent Brockbank brought such a new and happy dimension into Dad's and all of our 
lives. I have so often heard comments from Brent and others about our wonderful family. I 
read just last night a letter from Kathryn about Dad spending the entire day with little Allen and 
tending him. 

Dad loved life. Being the youngest child, I was acquainted with some of the health 
stresses he began to face. Troubled with ulcers and indigestion problems, with prostate 
challenges, with ongoing migraine headaches, he began to slow during his sixties. We 
wondered if the medications he took had an effect on the clarity and quickness of his thinking. 
I remember how devastated, how discouraged he was after teaching one of his BYU interior 
design classes. He had quite a difficulty hearing his students. He recognized that it was time for 
him to fully retire from his life's work and accepted the fact with quiet acquiescence and 
resolution. A task he had always loved had become a challenge and a burden to him. Mother 
told of a day Dad came home white as a ghost. He told her the students had evaluated him. 
They thought he was a fine man, but was too old to teach. I remember attempting to help him 
set and adjust his beautiful Omega watch- -a simple task which had now become so 
complicated for him. Yet, in these later trials, he was uncomplaining and enduringly cheerful. 
On more than one occasion, I remember him saying that if he could live all the days of his life 
over again, he would not change a single thing-quite a principle of personal acceptance and 
confidence in self-determination. This statement to me displays a principle of complete faith in 
the Plan of life and his personal trust and confidence in the accepting and forgiving love and the 

As his years increased and his time on earth shortened, he and Mother arranged for a 
trip to England, Scotland and Europe. Along with Uncle Harold and Aunt Violet, we all had a 
wonderful time. I will never forget the beautiful dancing girl in Norway singling Dad out and 
getting him to come up on the stage and dance with her. He was a good sport and joined right 
in the dancing! With all the beauty and splendor of all that we saw in those fairy-tale and 
classical lands, he still felt that Brickerhaven was the most beautiful spot on earth. 

To all of Lynn's posterity, some who may have known Dad may have their own special 
memory. His grandchildren helped him to become more open and soft and responsive to his 
children. Several of you, including my own children never had the privilege of knowing their 
grandfather upon the earth. But I am confident that you knew him well before arriving here. 
And I am confident that he has his loving eye on each one of us today. 

Our father, grandfather, now great-grandfather, Lynn Dixon Taylor was a man goodly 
simple and simply good! A man rare among men - our marvelous earthly progenitor. 

Written and delivered for a family reunion, July 26, 2002 



Ernest L. Wilkinson: 

"Lynn enjoyed life. He was modest and very self effacing. Even though he was bishop 
he always would rather sit on the back row. ... He said Cess [Celestia] would get him into the 
Celestial Kingdom whether he wanted to or not. He was dubbed Mr. Wisdom. No one ever 
heard him swear or gripe. Lynn was always cool, collected, and calm. Never excited. He had a 
great spirit within him. He was a catalyst for the entire BYU faculty, especially new comers.^ 

La Dell Peterson: 

Lynn was known in the neighborhood as Uncle Lynn because when you live close you 
become part of their family. He taught us how to be neighbors....Provo has become a better 
place to live because of our Brother Lynn.^ 

Brickerhaven Corporation Tribute: 

Lynn was a great lover of the out-of-doors and was frequently found taking a group of young 
people across the foothills of majestic Timpanogos. He loved young people and received great 
happiness from showing them some of the beauties of nature, and leading them into an 
enjoyment of the out-of-doors. He was an enthusiastic supporter of the annual Timpanogos 

One of Lynn's outstanding characteristics was his sense of fairness. He was a good 
neighbor in the true sense of the word. He seemed to have a knack of putting himself in other 
people's circumstances and following the Savior's admonition - do unto then as you would have 
them do unto you. 

Lynn loved to help other people. He had a knack of knowing what help was needed and 
of supplying the counsel and advice that alleviated or answered the problem. He never sought 
prominence, honor, or glory. He stood for honesty and integrity. He abhorred chicanery, 
deceit, or double talk. He followed the poet's admonition: "To thine ownself be true; and it 
must follow, as the day the night, thou canst not then be false to any man."^ 

Notes From Celestia About the European Trip: 

There was a time in my life when traveling to a foreign country was completely out of 
the realm of possibility as far as I could see. I had reached my fiftieth birthday without having 
left the shores of the United States except for a brief visit into Canada when Lynn and I went on 
our honeymoon after our marriage in 1927. 

Our responsibility to our family, Lynn's job, and our teaching positions as well as our 
tight financial schedule precluded the possibility of even thinking of any form of travel outside 


of an occasional trip to California, Cincinnati, or the Southern Utah canyon lands to visit our 
children. We did not feel in the least deprived, however, for our love for our honnes on the hill 
and in the canyon filled our lives and left little room actually for any desire to roam. 

When Terry received his call to go to England on a mission, the thought came to me that 
at the conclusion of this mission it would be a wonderful opportunity to meet him and do some 
traveling in England and in Europe. I suggested the idea to Lynn and he immediately 
discouraged any thoughts of such a thing. He had several arguments against the idea and 
strongly suggested that I put it completely out of my mind. However, I felt that Lynn, more 
than anyone I knew, should have the chance to visit those places and see those things that he 
had been teaching and lecturing about for so many years in his classes in interior decoration 
and historical periods of architecture and design. In subtle ways I began to show him that the 
idea was not impossible, that it was really feasible and completely within our reach. He began 
to see that here was an opportunity that might never come to us again. My teaching salary in 
addition to his own eased our financial situation to the point where we found that we could 
work things out quite easily. We approached Violet and Harold with the idea of their going with 
us and when they enthusiastically agreed to the trip, we decided to go. 

As things turned out, it was one of the best 
decisions we ever made. Our friend, John Weenig, 
worked out all the details for us and everything 
from beginning to end exceeded our greatest 
anticipations. Lynn remarked several times, during 
our travels and afterward, that he felt it was one of 
the best investments we had ever made. Those 
three months enriched our lives and brought us an 
appreciation of the wonder and beauty of the world 
to an extent that we hadn't thought possible. 
Although Lynn's life was extended only a few 
months after our return - he died exactly one year 
from the week of our departure, the first week in 
July - those last month's together were intensified 
in appreciation of life, of each other and of the man 
great blessings which had been bestowed upon us 
throughout our lives. 

One of the things that I remember about 
Lynn is that he was always a perfect gentleman. 
Never have I known him to be anything but Kind 
and generous and thoughtful toward others. Even 
at times when I was thoughtless or demanding or 
when I did things which were contrary to what he 
thought I should do, he was not impatient nor 
unkind. Oh, he let me know that he didn't approve. 

■ This P^Mroan exnuu rNHca Ycami Pbgii luce D*tk. 
Ir Kiic«*rKo, tr Kzi-(M» Ftvx Y*am FaoM Imui Oktw. 

M r T p p3 




but in such a way that I knew our differences were from some fault of mine rather than his. He 
was not a man to confess or give in and say he was sorry, but that was because he felt that he 
was right - and he usually was. 

He was overly kind and considerate of my family and their individual problems, putting 
himself out many times to do them a favor or to help them under any and all circumstances, 
however much to his disadvantage.'* 

Ruth Taylor Kartchner: 

Lynn was always very pleasant with me, and used to tease me a lot. I remember the day 
he was married and everyone was going to the reception, but because of my age, I had to stay 
home. I had the nickname "Dewey," and he used to always sing the song about Admiral Dewey 
to me, "And Along Came Brave Dewy." I always admired his artistic abilities at furnishing 
homes. I did disagree with him once when he and Alice decided to paint the brick on our home 

Lynn and Elton used to fight a lot. Mother used to get the broom and say "You stop 
that!" and she would whack them on the heads and try to get them to stop. They could be very 


Rl+on Taylor ' r+hur T). I'aylor Lynn D. Taylor 

Janice, your fathsr, Lynn D. Taylor, whs always kind and good to via. 
1 worked with him at Dixon Taylor Russell Conpany and being a secretary 
I wrote letters he dictated to me. He was always patient and under- 

When Boyd and I bought this lot in Oakhills from yourbrother, John, 
Uncle Lynn helped us decide on the interior design and what furniture, 
dra;^es, car];eting and etc. we would like in our hone before it was 
built. D.T.R's v/snt out of business before our home cot built. John 
Markham was our architect so Uncle .Lynn helped us decide on our 
furniture to our house plans. We bought our furniture from D.T.R.'s 
and -f-hey s+ored ^he furni+'!'-'? C-yr i;:- until the hone was built. 


Also I remember ftoing to your cabin in Brickherhave and how kind 
your parents v/^ire to me. V/e had <^uch fun plqyin^, there — building moss 
castles, oathing in the creek, hiking; the naountains and goinf^ to 

Stewart Falls: 

I remember vfhen I v;as going to Salt Lake City to buy Joyce Shoes 
which were in style. Provo didn't have them and so I decided to ask you to 
po with me. ^'ncle Lynn said you couldn't because everything you bought 
had to be in Provo. 

I loved Uncle Lynn and Aunt Ceii. It was a privileg-e to know then and '^-o 
be a neice to them, 

Dixie T. Frampton 


Lynn Taylor 

Dies Of 
Heart Attack 

Lynn Dixon Taylor, 69, 2150 
N. Oak Lane, died Sunday at 
noon at the Utah VaUey Hospi- 
tal of a heart 
attack. He was 
born May 6, 
1898, in Provo, 
the son of Ar- 
thur N. and 
Maria Louise 
Dixon Taylor. 

He married 
Celestia John- 
son on Aug. 
Mr. Taylor 17, 1927 in the 
Salt Lake Temple. He attend- 
ed the Timpanogos Grammar 
School, graduated from BY 
High School in 1917 and re- 
ceived his A. B. degree from 
Brigham Young University in 
June, 1923. He was manager 
of all minor sports for one year 
and was a member of the BYU 
Tennis team. In June of 1920, 
he was called on a mission to 
the Northwestern States where 
he labored in Portland, Ore., 
and Seattle, Wash. After his 
release, he came home to 
-Provo in 1922. 

He served in the U.S. Army 
World War L He was a mem- 
ber of the Provo Lions Club, 
the American Legion, Sons of 
the Utah Pioneers, officer of 
the Provo Advertising Club, 
first president of Bricker Ha- 
ven Corp., one of the organiz- 
ers of the Bonneville Develop- 
ment Company who developed 
Oak Hills Subdivision. 

He spent several years as 
draftsman and designer ' i Jo- 
seph Nelson's architectural of- 
fice. After graduation from 
college, spent six months at 
Barker Brothers in Los Ange- 
les, Calif, He became manag- 
er of Dixon-Taylor Russell Co. 
in the drapery department. He 
attended the school of Interior 
Decoration in New York, and 
was on the BYU faculty as 
special instructor in interior 
decoration for 30 years. He 
was advertismg manager of 
DTK. Several buildings on 
Provo's Center Street were de- 
signed him and constructed 
under his supervision. He 
designed and built his canyon 
home at Bricker Haven. 

He was very interested in 
sports, readmg good books and 
listening to better music. 

Survivors include his widow 
of Provo; two sons and three 
dau^ters, John A. Taylor, Cin- 
cinnati, Ohio; George T. Tay- 
lor, Provo; Mrs. Monte (Jan- 
ice) DeGraw, Salina Beach, 
Calif.; Mrs. Bryan (Lynne Ann) 
Richards, Salt Lake City; Mrs. 
Brent (Kathryn) Brockbank, 
San Jose, Calif.; 13 grandchil- 
dren; four brtohers and two sis- 
ters, Arthur D. Taylor, Eltori 
L. Taylor, Mrs. Fred (Ruth) 
Kartchner, all of Provo; Henry 
D. Taylor, and Mrs. EIRoy 
(Alice) Nelson, both of Salt 
Lake City. 

Funeral services will be held 
Thursday at 1:30 p.m. at the 
Oak Hills Fourth LDS Ward 
Chapel with Bishop Norman 
Creer officiating. Friends may 
call at the Berg Mortuary 
Wednesday from 6 to 8 p.m. 
* and Thursday until tim> of 
servives. Interment will }>& in 
the Provo City Cemetery. 



An expression of regard and esteem noted this day, September 19, 1967 at the first 
meeting of the officers and directors of Bonneville Development Company held since the death 
of a highly respected friend and colleague. 

WHEREAS, Lynn Dixon Taylor was an original associate in Bonneville Development 
Company at the time of its instigation and organization, contributing freely to its inception and 
establishment; and 

WHEREAS, he was a director in that organization from its beginning, giving liberally of 
his foresight, imagination, and constant vigilance; and 

WHEREAS, he accepted and discharged the corporate responsibility of assistant 
secretary, doing valuable service in the keeping of records and the preparation of memoranda; 

WHEREAS, he was a meritorious member of the committee on Architecture and 
Landscaping, furnishing counsel and direction in the esthetic growth of the Bonneville 
Development Company; and 

WHEREAS, he was a respected and valued citizen of his community, liberal in the 
contribution of his time, talents, and physical resources in the betterment of his neighborhood 
and the commonwealth; and 

WHEREAS, he is remembered as a devoted husband, a successful father, a sincere 
churchman, educator, businessman, sportsman, and a man of rare perceptive insight for 
esthetic values; and 

WHEREAS, on the second day of July, nineteen hundred and sixty-seven, he passed away, 
leaving a legacy of accomplishment and service to Bonneville Development Company which lives 
on to bless his memory in the minds and hearts of his associates, and to redound to the 
enrichment of living in the Oakhills community, therefore, 

BE IT RESOLVED, that this RESOLUTION be placed in the minutes of this meeting as the 
collective expression of respect and admiration of a choice man of worth, and that a copy 
thereof be transmitted to his widow, Celestia Johnson Taylor.^ 

J. Hamilton Colder, Henry D. Taylor, Weldon J. Taylor, Ralph B. Keeler, Fred L. Markham, 
DaCosta Clark, Lolan L. Turner, Wesley P. Knudsen 


^ LDT Funeral Services, Ernest L. Wilkinson 
^ LDT Funeral Services, LaDell Peterson 

Brickerhaven Resolution of Tribute and Respect honoring Lynn D. Taylor 
" Through a Lifetime, GT, Travels, Pages i-ii 
^ Interview with Ruth Taylor Kartchner, John A. Taylor 
^ Bonneville Development Company Resolution, 1967 


The Presiding Patriarch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints 

47 East South Temple Street, 
Salt Lake City, Utah 

Salt City Utah, June 1920 

Patriarch, Upon the head of 

Born May 1898, at Provo, Utah. 

BROTHER LYNN D. TAYLOR; According to thy desire and in the authority of the Holy 
Priesthood I place my hands upon thy head, and as the Spirit of the Lord shall direct me, give 
unto thee a Patriarchal blessing for thy comfort and benefit throughout this life according to 
thy faithfulness and obedience. Thou art of the lineage of Ephraim, the chosen son of Joseph 
who was sold by his brothers. Thou art also numbered among the chosen sons of Zion in these 
the last days, and much will be required at thy hands in order to fulfill thy mission here upon 
the earth. Therefore, honor thy birthright and the Holy Priesthood which has been given thee; 
keep thy trust in the Lord, for thy life and mission are precious unto Him. And at an early 
period of thy life thy guardian angel was given special charge concerning thee. If thou wilt 
follow the whisperings of that still small voice day and night, thou shalt go and come attended 
by the preserving, protecting and providing care of the Lord; and shall pass thine enemies in 
safety, both the seen and the unseen, and shall be preserved from harm and from accident, and 
live and fulfill thy mission here upon the earth. If thou wilt apply thyself diligently and 
prudently to thy duties as they are made known unto thee through study, through careful 
observation, and through the whisperings and promptings of that still small voice, as well as the 
counsels and teachings of thy parents, the Lord will strengthen thy hand and prosper thy 
righteous efforts and help thee in many ways to accomplish thy mission successfully, and to 
secure the blessings as they have been prepared for the honored sons and faithful fathers in 
Israel. For in due time thou shall secure unto thyself a choice companion for the journey of life 
and be crowned among the honored fathers in Israel. Go forth, therefore, with a determined 
mind to serve the Lord and to keep His commandments, guarding well thy habits that they may 
be free from folly and vice. Thou need never be put to shame, neither be overcome by the 
craftiness of evil-designing persons, for thou shalt be blessed in the use and cultivation of thy 
gifts, and shall be enabled to speak in boldness in defense of the Truth. Through thy diligence 
and study, thy humility in prayer, thy memory and mind shall be strengthened, thy tongue 
loosed to speak the Truth and to defend it whether among friends or among strangers, whether 
at home or abroad. If thou wilt honor the Holy Priesthood which has been given thee, thou 


shalt be magnified in the discharge of duty and through thy faithfulness in striving to perform 
thy duties, thou shalt be magnified before thy fellows and be called into positions of trust and 
leadership and responsibility, and shall live even to a goodly age and fill up the full measure of 
thy mission and creation here upon the earth. 

This blessing I seal upon thy head through thy faithfulness, and seal thee up to come forth in 
the Resurrection of the Just, with thy kindred and many friends, by virtue of the Holy 
Priesthood and in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen 

Hyrum G. Smith. 



Arthur Nicholls Taylor and Maria Louise Dixon Taylor, My Parents; Henry D. Taylor, 1986, 

Autobiography of Henry Dixon Taylor; Henry D. Taylor, 1980. 

George Taylor, Sr. and His Family, 1838-1926; Clarence D. Taylor, 1983. 

My Folks the Dixons, Vol. I, II; Compiled by Clarence D. Taylor, 1969. 

Through a Lifetime; Celestia J. Taylor, 1978. 

In Memory of Lynn D. Taylor, Funeral Remarks, Ralph B. Keeler, July 6, 1967. 



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